


The Things We Left Behind

by Clowns_or_Midgets



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse World (Supernatural), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Sam Winchester Remembers Lucifer's Cage, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Temporary Character Death - Winchesters, The Empty, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2019-08-27 06:49:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 117,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16697482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clowns_or_Midgets/pseuds/Clowns_or_Midgets
Summary: AU from episode 13.22 - Exodus. Sam's plans to leave Lucifer in Apocalypse World backfire when he is also trapped there with the very angry archangel. Meanwhile, Dean and the others are forced to deal with Michael and his nefarious plans while trying to find a way to cope with the loss of Sam.Beta'd by JenjoremyPre-read by Nscupnatfan





	1. Chapter 1

**_Chapter One_ **

 

Lucifer got unsteadily to his feet and came towards Sam, clutching his injured arm. He was bleeding and shaken from his altercation with Michael, and Sam reveled in the sight. This wasn’t the mighty archangel that had tortured him for almost two centuries. This wasn’t the archangel that could strip Sam down to his barest bones and laugh while doing it. Sam had the power here at last. It was liberating.

It was almost easy to grab Lucifer by the throat and stop him feet from the rift. He was smiling as he did it.

“Sam, what are you doing man?” Lucifer asked. “I’m hurt. Please.”

 _Please_ … How many times had Sam said that in the Cage? How many times had he begged for the torture to stop, first for Adam, when he’d pleaded with them to hurt him instead, and then later, when Adam was gone, he’d begged for them to leave him alone, too? Did Lucifer really think a plea from him was going to make a difference after everything he’d done?

Holding Lucifer tighter, he leaned close and sneered, “How did you think this was going to end?”

He shoved Lucifer back and he fell to the ground, his eyes wide with disbelief. His lips parted with a question, perhaps _why,_ but Sam didn’t wait to hear it. He started to turn toward the rift, but then something caught his eye. Michael was looking at him, smiling slightly as he lifted a hand, and a then burst of blue-white light poured from his palm. It collided with Lucifer, knocking him flat, and then hit Sam in the center of his stomach. He was thrown to the ground. The air was knocked out of him, and with his first drawn breath, he shouted automatically for Dean, a plea and a warning.

He thought he heard Dean call back, but then Michael was rushing past him, throwing himself at the rift. He passed through and Sam bellowed, “No!”

Ignoring the pain in his body from Michael’s attack, he crawled towards the rift, stretching out a hand. If he could just touch it, perhaps he’d be pulled through, but before he could reach it, the rift closed and Sam was left staring at the place it had been with a cry trapped in his throat.

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the grey sky, misery washing through him. “Dean,” he whispered, though he knew now it was too late for Dean to reach him. They were separated by an entire universe.

The sky above him darkened with rolling black clouds and thunder rumbled close enough that it hurt his ears. Rain started, pelting Sam like darts and freezing him in his threadbare clothes. He lay there, feeling his defeat, and then sense began to return. He needed to get out of there before Lucifer came to him for revenge for what he had done.

He scrambled to his feet and started to run, his feet skidding on the muddy ground. He managed only a matter of feet before a hand caught him around the neck and dragged him back.

Lucifer slammed him to the ground and leaned over him, his eyes alight with malice and madness. ”Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. “You and I need to talk, Sam.”

His eyes glowed red and Sam shivered with fear. The red eyes had always shone from Lucifer’s true face, the one that he’d worn as he’d tortured Sam in the Cage. Seeing them now was like stepping into one of his nightmares.

Lucifer straightened and Sam watched as he raised his hands to the sky. Thunder rumbled again and the hairs on Sam’s arms and the back of his neck stood on end. Knowing what was coming, Sam curled into a ball and squeezed his eyes closed. The lightning hit close, and he felt the ground shudder and the transference of the weaker jolt passing through the rain that coated the ground and into Sam, sending pain shooting through him.

He heard laughter and he looked at Lucifer. He was standing with his arms spread wide and his face upturned. It would have been a rapturous scene of someone enjoying the rain if it wasn’t for Lucifer’s obvious fury. He was looking up to see the storm his anger had created. He didn’t look weak anymore. Sam couldn’t have opposed him if he tried. Emotion gave Lucifer strength and this storm was just the smallest part of it.

Lucifer pointed a hand at Gabriel’s body and a bolt of lightning hit it. Lucifer laughed cruelly, sending another bolt into the body of his brother. Gabriel jerked and Sam felt sick. Lightning wasn’t enough for Lucifer though. He held out a hand and a rush of light, just like the one Michael had used to knock them down, poured from his palm into Gabriel. White flames erupted and, seemingly immune to the rain, spread over Gabriel, eating at him and turning him to ash. Lucifer laughed again, a mad sound. The flames died and the ashes were washed away by the rain; all that remained were the images of the wings scorched into the ground.  

Sam tried to get to his feet again, thinking perhaps he could get away while Lucifer was distracted, but Lucifer shoved out a hand without even looking at him, and Sam was knocked back onto the muddy ground.

Lucifer seemed to calm slightly. The storm slowed until it was only weak thunder and drizzling rain. Sam lay there shivering in his soaked clothes and watching him as he paced, his face now pensive. Sam had always hated that look. It was what came when Lucifer was plotting something in the Cage, when he was divining new and more imaginative ways to hurt Sam.  

Without looking at Sam he said, “You trapped me again, Sam.”

“You deserved it,” Sam said. “You don’t get to destroy that world, or Jack.”

Lucifer turned to him and his eyes glowed red again. “You took my son away from me.”

“Good,” Sam said, staring up at him with hatred. “You don’t deserve to even breathe the same air as him. Jack is good and innocent and kind. He’s everything you aren’t.”

“He is my son!”

“That’s just biology,” Sam snapped back. “He doesn’t belong to you.”

He stepped towards Lucifer, not thinking of escape now but revenge. He wanted to hurt Lucifer for what he’d done to him, to beat him with his words.

“You had a matter of hours with Jack. I had months. He’s my family, not yours. I’m the one he came to for help and guidance. It’s me that he cares about, not you.”

“I was reaching him!”

“You were trying to trick him,” Sam said. “He didn’t know what you really were. If he knew the truth, he would hate you, too.”

Lucifer’s face darkened and Sam knew pain was coming. He was ready for it though. Lucifer could hurt him, but he would get through it as he had before. He could handle this. Lucifer wouldn’t have the freedom of the Cage. This time Sam would not sustain when Lucifer plucked out his heart and showed it to him.  Sam would die and it would be over.

He braced himself, but the pain didn’t come. Instead, Lucifer’s face softened and he looked behind him. Sam didn’t understand what was going on until he saw a ball of light flying through the sky towards them. It landed, spraying up mud, and Sam was knocked flat and pinned by an inexorable force. There was another and then another. The sky seemed to come to life with the balls of light, and as they landed, figures appeared. They were all in the fatigues the angels here favored, though Sam would have known what they were even without that or their mode of arrival. They all held themselves stiffly and watched Lucifer warily, their eyes falling on Sam and quickly moving away.

“Pay no attention to him,” Lucifer said. “Sam’s just here as an audience to my triumph, aren’t you Sam?” His face was filled with glee for the boast.

“Lucifer?” one of them, a female, said. “Is it you?”

“It is!” Lucifer said cheerfully. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name. I’ve been out of the loop for a while.”

“Beriah,” she said.

“Good to meet you,” Lucifer said.

“What happened here? Beriah asked, her eyes, like the other angels’, on the scorched wings on the ground.

Lucifer chuckled. “Ah, those. Yeah. That’s what remains of your mighty leader.” He lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. “I killed Michael.”

There was a murmur among the angels, and Sam realized what Lucifer was planning. He laughed. “He’s–“ He had intended to tell them Lucifer was lying, but Lucifer pointed a hand at him and the word came out as a breath, inaudible even to him. He tried again, shouting even, but all that escaped him was air. Lucifer had stolen his voice.

“How did you win?” a male angel asked. “Michael smote the Lucifer of this world.”

“I was faster and stronger,” Lucifer lied. “I’m not the flabby waste this world’s me was, fresh from the Cage and out of practice. I have lived and fought in my world for years. I took on The Darkness. I am at the top of my game. Michael had only fought humans for years. He was no match for me. Well, that’s a bit of a lie; he was a match and got a few good licks in, but I was ultimately the victor.”

Two angels at the front of the group exchanged a glance and the woman said, “I don’t believe you. Michael was a mighty warrior.”

The man beside her nodded.

“And your names are?” Lucifer asked.

“Hester,” she said. “And this is Inias. We’re the commanders of Zone R4, and we don’t believe that _you_ could have beaten Michael.”

“He was more than a match for you,” Inias said.

Sam realized he’d met these angels before. They’d come for Kevin when they’d found the tablet. Castiel said they’d been killed by Leviathans. They hadn’t seemed all that powerful in his world, but apparently here they had excelled if they’d been put in command of a Zone. Sam wondered where it was, what part of his world had been reassigned a number instead of a name, what it looked like now. 

Lucifer sighed. “You know, I really hate doubters. Here I am, victorious and happy, finally having fulfilled my destiny, and you’re killing my buzz.” He looked around at the other angels. “What’s an archangel to do? I know.” He pointed at the two angels that doubted him, and they exploded into grey dust. “That’s better.”

The angels murmured among themselves and shifted from foot to foot. Sam understood their fear as he had experienced Lucifer at his most vengeful before, too.

“Anyone else doubting me?” Lucifer asked, eyebrows raised as he scanned the group.

“No,” a tall male said, and the other angels shook their heads. Sam wasn’t sure he believed them. He thought they were just scared to oppose Lucifer and end up dead like their fellows. Lucifer seemed convinced though.

“Good,” Lucifer said. “Now, you have a choice. You can serve me and live, or you can fight me and die. I don’t mind which it is. I already killed Michael today, and those two bozos, and I rather enjoyed it. I don’t mind adding a few more of you to my account. Does anyone want to fight?”

They murmured, no, and some of them shook their heads and stepped forward to show him their willingness to serve.

“Well then, as an old enemy would have said, _awesome_. My first task is for you to get out there and do something for me. I need you to spread the word among the troops. I want everyone to know there is a new sheriff in town and he’s got big plans. I want every angel out there to know what happened to Michael and… Hefter was it? And the other one. Tell them that I won’t put up with doubters.” He tapped his chin. “I need a few of you to stay here. I’ve got a job for you. You, you and you.” He pointed at three of the angels and they stepped forward to him. “The rest of you can go. Now!”

His suddenly harsh tone reached them and they disappeared one by one, leaving Sam with Lucifer and the three angels. Lucifer looked from face to face as if appraising them and said, “You two, come here.” The two female angels stepped forward, looking nervous.

“I’m a little depleted after the fight,” Lucifer said, “and I need a pick-me-up. It won’t hurt much, and you’re really doing your bit for the cause, so if you’d just stand there, nice and still, it will be over quickly. “

He drew his blade and the angels took a step backwards. They didn’t try to escape though, and Lucifer smiled approvingly. He whipped his blade across their throats and grace began to seep from the wounds. Lucifer leaned close, and the two streams of grace merged and drifted into his open mouth. He leaned back and ran his hand over their wounds, healing them instantly, and said, “That’s better. You’re probably going to feel weak for a while, but you’ll be back on your feet in no time.” He winked. “Maybe try some juice and a cookie. I hear that helps.”

The angels merely frowned at him.

“You can go,” he said.

He had apparently taken too much grace for them to fly, as they walked away swiftly, huddling close together.

Lucifer turned to the remaining angel and said, “What’s your name?”

“Bartholomew.”

Sam recognized this name, too. It was one of the faction leaders after the fall. Castiel had killed him. He was powerful though, and clever. If Lucifer was keeping him for any reason other than to drain his grace, it made him a threat to Sam.

“Bart,” Lucifer said decisively. “What did you do before Michael bit the dust?”

“I was second-in-command to Zachariah,” he said. “And when Zachariah was killed, I took his place.”

“Were you loyal to Michael?” Lucifer asked. “No backstabbing and bitching?”

“I was as loyal to him as I will be to you,” Bartholomew said.

Lucifer frowned. “That’s not exactly reassuring, Bart, but I can use you anyway. You looked a little smarter than the other grunts, and I am going to need a second-in-command, too. There’s somewhere I want to go, and I’m not exactly clued in on the geography of this place. I want to go to Michael’s little hidey-hole.”

“His hidey-hole?”

Lucifer looked disappointed. “Church. Kinda gloomy place. Cells and interesting accommodations hanging from the ceiling.”

“His Fortress,” Bartholomew said with dawning understanding.

“He called it a fortress?” Lucifer asked with a dry laugh. “He really thought a lot of himself, didn’t he? That’s where I want go. He had something there I need.”

 “It’s in the Great Barren Plains.”

Lucifer shrugged. “Means nothing to me. Yet. You lead, I’ll follow. Just give me a sec.”

He walked toward Sam and bent and grabbed his arm. He yanked him upright with such force and speed that Sam thought his shoulder was going to dislocate. He wanted to roll the joint, to check it, but Lucifer held him fast by the wrist.

“Ready when you are,” Lucifer said.

Sam felt the disconcerting sensation of movement and then he was blinking in the dim light of a large room with a map spread across the stone altar but no other furniture.

Before Sam could do more than look around, Lucifer was dragging him back into a second room. It was empty but for a cage set on the floor with a large hook in the ceiling above it. It was barely large enough for a man to stand in, but its size was the least outstanding part of it. What Sam noticed was the metal spikes that were pointed into the cage that would stab into a person if they didn’t stand ramrod straight. It was a cleverly designed hanging iron maiden.

“Like it?” Lucifer asked. “I know you have a thing for sticking people in cages, so this should be right up your alley. What do you think? Oh, right, you’ve lost your voice. I’ll take your silence as agreement.”

He shoved Sam forward, making him stumble. Sam considered running, but he knew that would only garner him more pain. He had no real chance of escape with Lucifer as his jailer. 

Lucifer pushed Sam into the cage and the spikes scraped his stomach. He straightened up, not wanting to even breathe and risk being stabbed again. The cage door was slammed behind him and then he was rising into the air as Lucifer lifted it and attached it to the hook on the ceiling. It swung and the spikes jabbed at Sam. He had suffered much worse pain in his life, and it was easy to not make a sound, but he was worried about the idea of an extended period spent inside.

Lucifer turned the cage so Sam was facing him. “I know from personal experience that it’s not exactly comfy in there, and more than a little constricting, but I figure you’re used to cages, so you should handle it as well as I did.” He leaned close and smiled cruelly. “You’d better get used to it since you’re going to be in there a while. You’re going to have a lot of time to think, and I want to give you something to really mull over. Michael went to your world, Sam, arriving in that hole of yours only seconds after Dean and the rest of your family. Now, I know my family is safe, Michael is no threat to my boy, but how long do you think Dean and the others lasted with Michael gunning for them?”

Sam’s mouth dropped open as shock rolled over. He’d been so selfishly consumed with his own situation that he’d not though of Dean and the others. Would Jack be able to defend them, too, or would Michael have killed them all as soon as he arrived?

He whispered Dean’s name, but all that came out was a soft breath.

“What was that?” Lucifer asked, cupping his ear. “Were you calling for your big brother maybe? He can’t hear you, Sam. He’s not coming. He’s dead. They all are. I want you to stay here and think about that. They’re dead. You’re not. I have big plans for you.”  His eyes glowed red again and Sam swallowed hard. “Really, Sam, how did _you_ think this was going to end?”

Lucifer laughed and then turned and left the room. Sam watched him go, only releasing his stranglehold on his emotions when the door had slammed behind him. He closed his eyes and a tear slipped out.

He was Lucifer’s prisoner again, the people he loved could be dead, and he was in Hell. The location had changed, the torment would be different, but he knew what was coming, and that terrified him.

Sam was back in the Cage with Lucifer.

xXx

Dean felt Sam’s hand on his back, urging him towards the rift. “Go! Go!”

Dean fell forward into the rift, feeling the dizzying sensation that it created, and then he was staggering into the library among the crowd of people that had gone before him.

Rowena was sitting at the table, sweating and pale with exhaustion, holding her hand out at the rift, keeping it open by some miracle. Everyone else was standing back and staring with fascination at the rift. Dean moved forward to give Sam space to come through and he looked back at it, waiting for a sign of his brother.

“Dean!” The word was an echo, barely heard, but its desperation was clear, as was the owner of the voice.

“Sam!”

The rift pulsed and Dean felt hope, but it wasn’t Sam that came through. In the moment before the white light hit him, Dean saw Michael straightening in front of the rift. The force knocked him onto his back, forcing the air from his lungs and blurring his vision. He was moving though, rolling onto his hands and knees and crawling forward. All around him people were on their backs, eyes blinking and air being drawn into empty lungs, but Dean barely noticed them. He was almost at the rift, reaching for it, when it shrank and closed.

Dean’s first drawn breath was exhaled in a sigh of his brother’s name, and he kept crawling, even though it was too late.

“Sam?” Mary spoke behind him, and her voice was questioning and concerned.

Dean stared at the place the rift had been and then pushed himself to his feet and turned toward her. She was still lying on her back, looking up at him with confusion.

“Where’s Sam?” she asked.

Dean held out a hand to help her to her feet. She took it and pulled herself upright. All around them other people were doing the same. Ketch had Rowena under his arm, and he seemed to be supporting her. Bobby was brushing off his clothes, and Jack was helping Maggie up.

“Where is Sam?” Mary asked again, her tone insistent now. “Has anyone seen Sam?”

“He’s not here,” Dean said. His voice was harsher than he’d intended, but he couldn’t control it. He was struggling with the reality of what had happened and what it meant.

“Where is he?” she asked, though she clearly already knew the answer. They all did.

“He didn’t come through,” Jack said weakly. “I saw Michael and then the light that hit you all, but Sam wasn’t through. It closed.”

“Then… he’s still there,” Mary said, then she clapped a hand to her mouth as if that could call back the words, make them not real.

“Lucifer didn’t come through either,” Jack said. There was sadness in his voice that angered Dean as he thought it wasn’t solely for Sam. Jack was upset his father, the murdering, torturing, monster, wasn’t there either. 

“We have to go back,” Mary said.  “Now! Open another rift.”

Dean wanted the same thing, but he knew there was a problem. They had more of the fruit and Rowena had been able to siphon the power of the seal for her magic, but there was no grace.

He turned to Rowena who was sitting down again, looking faintly sickened. “Help us,” he said.

She shook her head. “I could barely hold it open to get you all out. I can’t open one from scratch. I need grace, and Gabriel was tapped.” She frowned. “Where is he?”

“Dead,” Dean said harshly. He’d thought that had been a loss when he’d seen Michael sink his blade into the archangel, but that was nothing in the face of what had happened to Sam.

Castiel shifted uncomfortably at his side. “There is only Michael left, and…”

There was no need to say more. There was no way they could get the grace from Michael.

“Jack!” Dean said, spinning to face the kid was still looking shell-shocked and sad. “Get one open.”

“I can’t,” he said. “I needed someone to show me the way. I can’t do it without Kaia.”

“Kaia is dead,” Dean spat.

Jack’s eyes widened. “Then there’s nothing I can do… I can’t get them back.”

Dean turned away, disgusted at him. It wasn’t enough that he couldn’t get Sam back. He was mourning the loss of Lucifer, too.

“There has to be something we can do!” Mary said desperately, and Bobby put his arm around her. She stayed rigid against him, her eyes wide with panic. “We can’t leave him there.”

Dean closed his eyes and tried to find calm. He couldn’t think while his mind was reeling like this. He needed to find a solution to get Sam back, but, even when his thoughts had cleared, he could think of nothing. There were only two ways—Jack or the spell—and neither would work without more. He felt defeat washing through him.

“No!” Mary said harshly. “There has to be a way. We need to get him back.”

Bobby hugged her a little closer. “I think it’s too late, Mary,” he said in a gentler tone than Dean had heard from their Bobby since the day they’d parted after Sam had gone to the Cage. “Michael would have killed them if they’d fought him, and I can’t see your boy bowing and letting him through. I think Sam and the other one are dead.”

Mary covered her eyes and Dean bit down so hard on his tongue to stifle his cry that he tasted blood.

“They could be alive,” Jack said. “Maybe Michael was in a hurry to get to the rift. He would have needed to fight Lucifer. There wasn’t time. He would have to have run right for the rift to make it through.” He looked at Dean, “Sam is alive.”

But that was worse. If Sam was alive, he was trapped in that place with Lucifer. Lucifer would destroy him all over again. He would never let Sam be. He would want to exact revenge for what he saw as Sam’s crimes against him.

Dean looked at Castiel, pleading for reassurance. “He’s there with Lucifer, Cas.”

Castiel nodded, looking at Dean with such intensity that Dean felt like he was looking right into his mind. Perhaps he was, as he said exactly what Dean needed to hear. “Then he’s dead. Lucifer would not let him live.”

“No!” Mary cried. “He’s alive.”

Dean shook his head. “Cas is right. Lucifer wouldn’t let him live.” He clung to the words because he couldn’t bear the alternative: that Sam was alive and trapped with the archangel that had tortured him so completely for so long that his soul had been ruined.  

“But he brought him back,” Jack said. “He saved Sam. Why would he kill him now?”

Castiel spoke softly, his voice steeped in the same misery Dean felt. “He did that for you, Jack. He has no reason to do it again.”

Dean wanted to cry. He wanted to shout his pain into the room, to give voice to it, but he bit down on his already ragged tongue and held it in. He was angry, too, and that felt better. It was easier to handle. He was angry with Jack for defending his father, angry with himself for letting Sam come through last, and angry with Sam. He didn’t want to be, but he was. Sam had been right behind him. If he’d just come through straight away, he would have been fine. He had hesitated for some reason, and that had doomed him. What could he have been doing that made him wait?

The answer came at once. He’d been dealing with Lucifer. He’d said he would, and Dean had agreed. He hadn’t known what Sam was planning, perhaps Sam hadn’t himself, but he knew better. He’d known they were out of time. The rift should have been closed already. Sam should have come through straight away, not waited to keep some stupid promise to stop the devil. He’d already done that once, and look at what that had cost him. Sam should never have hesitated.

His anger filled him and broke the hold he had over himself. In spite of his best efforts, a tear crept down his face. Mary rushed to him and put her arms around him. She stroked his back and whispered, “He’s alive, Dean. I know it. He came back before. He will again. You have to trust him.”

Dean pulled out of her embrace and shook his head bitterly. “He’s dead. Lucifer killed him.”

“He wouldn’t,” Jack said.

Castiel glared at him and his voice was harsh as he said. “You have no idea what your father is. He would kill Sam without hesitation.” He looked Dean in the eye and Dean knew he needed to believe it as much as Dean did, as they were the only two people left in the world that knew what it meant for Sam if he was alive. “He’s dead.”

Dean nodded, taking comfort in the words. Sam had to be dead. The thought tore his heart apart, but it was better than the alternative.

“Stop saying that!” Mary shouted. “He’s not!”

Dean turned away from her. He couldn’t comfort her or persuade her of the truth. He couldn’t make her understand why he needed Sam to be dead.

She didn’t know that if Sam was alive, his soul was being torn apart even now at Lucifer’s hands. She didn’t know what that kind of torture felt like. She couldn’t know as she’d never been to hell, and she’d never seen the damage Lucifer wrought over Sam the last time he had him prisoner.

Dean needed Sam to be dead, as he couldn’t handle the alternative.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam had no idea how long he’d been in the cage, but it had been long enough for the spikes to drive wounds into his stomach and back when he’d unintentionally leaned against them. It was impossible to stay ramrod straight when you were as exhausted as Sam was. As painful as the cage was, though, he was less worried about being inside it than what was going to happen when Lucifer eventually came back.

He spent a lot of time thinking of his family in the real world. He was sure they were alive. Jack had been there when they’d gone through the rift, and he would never have let Michael hurt them. They were okay because they had to be. Sam couldn’t bear the idea that they might be gone. He would never see them again, he knew, but if they were alive out there somewhere, he could handle what was going to happen to him. At least that was what he told himself.

His mind shied away from thoughts of himself. They were almost as painful as what he knew was coming for him. He tried to focus on the rest of his family instead, wondering what they were doing. They had a lot to do. Michael needed to be stopped before he turned their world into a wasteland the way he had his own. They would do it. They had Jack and Dean fighting. Jack was strong enough to fight him, and Dean had come up against enemies like that before. He would know what to do. He only hoped they weren’t too distracted by him being trapped to do what needed to be done. They needed to write him off as dead and move on with the fight. They couldn’t get him back without grace, and Michael needed to be killed not drained. He was too dangerous to risk doing anything else. 

The door swung open and Sam started, jabbing his already wounded back on the spikes. He forced his expression to remain smooth as Lucifer sauntered into the room, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much Sam was hurting. 

“How did you sleep, Sam?” he asked.

Sam had no voice to reply, so he merely glared at Lucifer as he approached and gripped the sides of the cage.

“Really, I want to know. I don’t sleep, so I never had to sleep in that thing. I’m guessing it was uncomfortable. It was definitely uncomfortable to stand in. Did you find yourself relaxing without realizing? I did.”

Sam didn’t even try to answer him. He didn’t want Lucifer to get the satisfaction of knowing he was trying and failing to make the words.

Lucifer seemed annoyed though. He shook the cage roughly, making Sam rock back and forth against the spikes, digging them into his existing wounds. Against his will, a short cry of pain left him, and he was shocked to hear it as more than a breath. His surprise must have been evident as Lucifer laughed.

“You can talk, Sam. I wouldn’t be asking you questions if you couldn’t. What would be the point in that? You get to talk when I let you, and I’m going to let you now. So, how did you sleep?”

“Fuck you,” Sam snarled.

“Rude,” Lucifer said, sounding disappointed.

He gave the cage a hard shove and Sam bit his lip to keep himself silent. When the cage had settled again, Lucifer turned it from side to side as if to get a better view of Sam.

“Those wounds look nasty,” he said conversationally. “Do you want me to heal them? I can. It would only take a touch.”

“Don’t touch me!”

Lucifer tutted. “Rude again. I was offering to do you a kindness.” He reached in the bars and stroked Sam’s cheek almost tenderly. “How does that feel? You like _that_ touch?””

Sam pulled away from him, almost impaling himself on the spikes at his back.

“Really, Sam. We both know it’s only a matter of time until you’re begging for my touch, my help. It didn’t take you that long to break in the Cage. I remember you begging for Adam… and then yourself. Those are some sweet memories. I can’t wait until we reach that point again. I will wait though. If you do what I want, there will be no need for you to hurt any more than you already have.”

“What do you want?” Sam asked. It was a tactical question rather than one of weakness. He had no intention of doing anything Lucifer wanted from him.

“I have a few questions for you. See, I had something special building with my son, and I want to get back to that.”

“Jack is nothing to you!”

Lucifer gripped the bars and Sam braced himself for pain that didn’t come. Lucifer just turned it ever so slightly to the side as if to see Sam from a better angle.

“Jack is my son. Blood is thicker than water, Sam, and he had my blood. I need to get back to him so we can start building that bond up again. For that I need you. I want you to tell me how you got that rift open. Obviously Red played her part, but do I need a witch or can anyone do it? What do you need apart from my grace? There was a glowy rock and some blood, but what was with the fruit?”

Sam pressed his lips together and glared at the archangel.  He thought he should have known that this was what Lucifer would want—a way back to Jack. He would never give it to him. Their world was already in danger from Michael; he would not add Lucifer to that threat. And Jack… Sam would defend him from himself and his softening to Lucifer. Jack was good and kind, but there was also a darkness in him that he himself feared. Sam had thought once Jack was going darkside, even though he hadn’t been. On the contrary, he had been looking for a way to bring Mary back for Sam and Dean. He couldn’t be sure that they boy’s trusting nature wouldn’t lead him to being corrupted by Lucifer. Sam would not let that happen.

“I’m waiting, Sam,” Lucifer said. “Time to ante up the spell. I don’t have all day.”

Sam looked into his eyes and made sure to enunciate each word carefully as he said, “Fuck you.”

Lucifer’s eyes glowed red as his face twisted with anger, and he yanked roughly on the cage, sending Sam bouncing between the spikes in front and behind.

“Don’t test me, Sam!” he shouted. “I am not in the mood for your stubborn streak to rear its head. I need this.”

The cage settled and Sam felt the searing pain from his wounds, but he didn’t make a sound. He just fixed his eyes on Lucifer and tried to show his loathing through his expression alone.

Lucifer breathed hard as he calmed himself and said, “You know what, I don’t even need you to tell me. I can pluck it from that mop-head of yours with or without your help. I was trying to give you a chance to earn a reward, freedom perhaps, but I will make sure you rot in this cage now.”

He reached through the bars of the cage and gripped the sides of Sam’s head. He held him so tightly Sam thought he was trying to break his skull, and then he drew a breath and Sam cried out in agony, unable to stop it, as he saw the faces of the people he had loved.

_Jessica was lying on a towel on the sand the summer she and Sam had saved enough money for a weekend on Venice beach. She smiled up at him._

_His father was sitting at a table with his gun in pieces in front of him and a saucer of gun oil. He pointed to something and looked Sam in the eye with an intensity that made Sam feel like he was seeing right though him._

_Ellen and Jo were sitting with Castiel at Bobby’s, the night before they went after Lucifer with the colt. There was a line of shot glasses in front of Ellen, and she looked bleary-eyed._

_Castiel stood in a motel room, his tie askew and his smile, so rare in those days, was wide as he welcomed Sam back after being re-ensouled._

_Bobby was at his desk with books open in front of him and a scowl on his face as he looked up at Sam, probably frustrated at something that Sam wasn’t picking up on fast enough._

_Mary was standing across from him in the forest, her eyes wide and disbelieving as Sam walked toward her._

_Dean was sitting beside him in the Impala, and though there was no sound, Sam knew he was singing._

“Give me the spell, Sam,” Lucifer said in an echoing voice. “Show me how she did it.”

Sam saw Rowena in the library. She was pouring the blood into the bowl.

He wrenched himself out of the memory and imagined a steel door slamming between it and him. He slid across a bolt and imagined a lock dial spinning.  

“No!” Lucifer’s shout hurt his ears and made him flinch.

He opened his eyes again and Sam saw the archangel looking at him with fury.

“How did you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?” Sam asked innocently.

“You know. You stopped me from seeing that memory. That’s impossible.”

“And yet I did it anyway,” Sam said.

 Lucifer’s blade slipped into his hand and he raised it to Sam’s face. “Tell me the spell.”

“No.”

Lucifer swiped the blade across Sam’s cheek, down from his eye to his jaw. The sting was nothing compared to the fear Sam had felt that Lucifer was going to take his eye.  

“Oh, that’s nasty,” he said. “That’s going to leave a scar.”

Sam felt the blood slip down his neck, warm and slick, to the collar of his borrowed jacket, and he wished he could wipe it away, but he hands were pinned at his sides by the cage. 

“You are going to tell me, Sam,” he said. “You know I can break you.”

“No,” Sam said firmly, though he doubted the truth of his words. “You won’t break me this time. I have been through worse.”

“What could have been worse than the fine art I created of your body?”

Sam didn’t answer. He had been through worse, he had lost his brother and he’d become a demon. He’d lost his mother to this world for months, and though he’d believed he would get her back at first, he had still known she was suffering there. Jack had showed him her in this very cage. Castiel had died at Lucifer’s own hands. All those things had been worse for him in his heart. All Lucifer could do was hurt him physically. That probably would break him as he had nothing to fight for, but he knew he would never give him the spell

Lucifer sighed, his anger fading and the persona of the reasonable man returning. “I need to be there, Sam. Michael is free in that world, and I’m the only one that can help Jack beat him. My boy is powerful, I know that, but he’s also untrained; he doesn’t understand his powers. I can teach him that. It’s too late for your family, but there are billions more that you want to save, I know. I’m their only hope. Jack can never do it without me.””

“Jack is better than you. He will do it.”

“And the fact he’s all alone now, without even Castiel or Dean to guide him?”

Sam wouldn’t tell Lucifer they were still alive as it would give him another weapon. He knew they were, and that was all that mattered.

“He will do it,” he said again.

He had to.

xXx

Dean left the others in the library and took Bobby on a tour of the bunker. The mood in the place was somber. He couldn’t help but think of how it would have felt if Sam had been with them and not Michael. They would have been celebrating their win. Bobby’s people would be experiencing their first night with a decent and safe place to sleep after years of living rough. It would have been a party.

Now it was the furthest thing from a party atmosphere for Dean and his small family; they were thinking of Sam being lost. Though Jack was also thinking of his father, Dean couldn’t let himself think of that as it made him want to attack the kid. It wasn’t Jack’s fault, he knew. Lucifer was the original source of temptation, and he’d made a good case to Jack, but that was in part Dean’s fault. They’d never told him what Lucifer had done to Sam in the Cage. Sam hadn’t wanted to talk about it, and Dean had respected that as Sam had so few chances to make choices for himself when it came to that, especially since Castiel had freed Lucifer again. Though Dean knew Castiel had been doing what he thought of as the right thing, he also knew it was something he could never really forgive him for. After everything it had taken to trap him in the Cage, Sam’s life and almost two centuries of torture, the horrific damage to his soul, Castiel had let him out to torment him again. 

Jack didn’t know that though, and because of their silence, he was upset that his murdering, evil father wasn’t with them.

The rest of the people were thinking of Michael. They had thought they were escaping him, only for him to follow them through and threaten their new world, too. Dean wished there was something he could do for them, as he wished there was something he could do for himself. He would give anything to cut out the part of him that was searing him with pain each time he took a breath. All he could do was focus on his anger and take care of the people that needed him.

“These are the bedrooms?” Bobby asked, cutting into Dean’s thoughts.

“What? Oh, yeah. There’s only a few taken, so you’ve got the run of the rest of them.” He came to Sam’s room and stopped. He didn’t want anyone in there, not to sleep or even look at the place. It was Sam’s space, no one else’s. “Give me a minute,” he said. He went into Sam’s room, trying not to see Sam’s stuff there to protect himself from that pain, but failing. There were clothes waiting to be put away, books on the desk and bedside table that Sam had been reading, all of them books on lore. Dean wondered when Sam had last read something because he was interested in the story, not the information it contained. He couldn’t remember seeing Sam doing it in a lifetime.

He took the key from the lock and left the room again, locking the door behind him. “This one’s off limits,” he told Bobby.

Bobby nodded, probably guessing whose room that had been. Just like the Bobby that had belonged with Sam and Dean, he didn’t question or comment.

“I think some of them are going to want to stay somewhere else,” he said. “We appreciate everything you’ve done for us, but after so many years living in the open, they won’t be comfortable somewhere subterranean.”

“No problem,” Dean said. “There’s a motel in town called the Rodeway Inn. It’s cheap but clean. I’ll fix you up with some cash.”

“We can take care of that part ourselves,” Bobby said. “You’ve already done more than enough for us.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “How are you going to get money?”

Bobby shrugged. “We’ll find a way.”

Dean appreciated the sentiment of Bobby wanting to take one problem out of his hands, but he would need to do something. He’d see what Ketch had. He definitely acted like he had money. He could do a little more for the cause and help them out, though if Dean was honest, he knew he’d already done a lot for Bobby’s people. If it wasn’t for what the British Men of Letters had done to his mother with Ketch’s help, Dean would have said he was a decent guy.

He led Bobby back to the library where his people were sitting around the tables and leaning against the walls. Some of them were drinking beers and talking, but most looked shell-shocked still. Dean tried not to search the room for his mother, but his eyes drifted to her of their own accord and he saw her sitting at a table with Rowena and Jack. Her eyes were red though she wasn’t crying. Dean thought she was waiting for privacy to let go of the stranglehold she had over her emotions. He was doing the same.

Bobby raised his voice and called for silence. “Dean has offered us rooms here,” he said, his voice carrying to the whole room. “But there’s a place in town if some of you would rather be somewhere a little more open.” Most of them nodded, though Dean saw Charlie looked reluctant. Dean guessed she would want to be with them, close to the base of the mission, just as their Charlie would have.

Ketch stood and came to Dean. “They’re going to need cash,” he said. “I know where there are Men of Letters funds stored in the area. Shall I retrieve them for Bobby?”

Dean wondered why he and Sam hadn’t known there was money there. They’d made do by selling some of the artifacts they’d inherited with the bunker: a fancy egg Sam said was Faberge and a few other artifacts they hadn’t had a use for.  They’d made out okay, and Dean was pleased they had something to offer now, but it would have been a relief for Sam at least to know they would never need fake credit cards again. It was too late for him to know now.  A surge of anger built in Dean again. He clung to it as it was easier to feel than anything else

“Talk to Bobby,” he said curtly.

Ketch nodded and walked away.

Dean raised his voice and said, “If you’re staying here, you should find a room and get some sleep. We’ve got a crazy archangel out there that needs to be dealt with. We’re going to need to be at the top of our game.”

Many people nodded but others ducked their heads, looking afraid. Dean supposed they hadn’t needed the reminder. It was just another screw-up from him. He was constantly letting people down.

Bobby broke away from Ketch and raised his voice again. “If you’re coming with me, we’re going now.”

People got to their feet and followed him up the stairs to the door. Of his group, only Charlie remained. She ran a hand over her face and came to Dean. “Hey,” she said. “I think I’ll stay. Is there any particular room I should use?”

“Room five is free,” Dean said. That was far enough away from his room that he could have his space.

“Thanks,” she said brightly, and then looked guilty. “Sorry. I’ll… Yeah, I’ll go.”

Dean nodded stiffly, feeling guilty for stifling her natural exuberance. Their Charlie had been a ball of joy and laughter most of the time, too, even when things were tough. This Charlie had barely met Sam. But what hurt Dean was that, if she was their world’s version, she would have been mourning Sam’s death, too. 

Mary got up and came towards him. Dean couldn’t face talking to her, so he walked back along the halls to the bedrooms. He heard her coming after him, and when she caught his arm, he stopped and looked at her.  “What?”

“He’s alive, Dean.”

Dean shook his head roughly. “No.”

“Yes. I know he is,” she argued. “I can feel it. When you told me the vampires killed him, I knew it was true as I felt it in my heart. I don’t feel it now. He’s trapped but he’s alive. ”

Dean’s chest constricted and it was hard to draw a breath. She was reinforcing his worst fears.

“Let him go, Mom,” he said roughly. “He’s gone.”

“No!”

“Get some sleep,” he said turning away and walking toward his bedroom again.

“You’ll see!” she called after him. “I’m not giving up.”

Dean froze, on the verge of turning back to shout at her, but he forced his muscles to unclench and kept walking.

He wasn’t giving up on his brother. He was just aware that death was the best outcome. He had to believe that was what happened if he was going to function.

He got to his room and slammed the door closed. He looked at the things he had decorated it with, his weapons on the wall, his records and his photographs. There was a picture of him and Sam there taken by Bobby shortly after Sam got his soul back. They were laughing at something Dean had forgotten, looking perfectly happy together, like life was good. It hadn’t been good really. Raphael had been gunning for the world then. In fact, nothing had been good for a long time. It had been damn awful at times, like now. With his brother dead and yet another archangel coming for the world, things were plain screwed.

Dean felt another red-hot surge of anger and he picked up the picture of him and Sam. He looked at it for a moment, and then clenched his fist, balling up the glossy paper. He threw it onto the desk and then swept it onto the floor followed by his records. He stamped on them, feeling the vinyl breaking under his heels. The destruction gave him a feeling of satisfaction; he was making his environment as chaotic as he felt.

Only when he had spent his anger did he stop and fall onto the bed. He pressed his face against the blanket and squeezed his eyes closed.

“Dammit, Sammy!


	3. Chapter 3

Sam knew Lucifer wanted him to hear when they approached. He had left him and gone wherever it was he went when he wasn’t with Sam, in the main room of the church or somewhere out in his new world, but he came back with Bartholomew and another angel, this one a female with neatly braided hair.

Lucifer came straight to Sam and spun the cage. Sam’s view of the room flashed past, sometimes showing him Lucifer and the other angels and then the blank stone walls that made up his new cell. The rotation made it impossible not to jar against the spikes, and Sam tried to keep himself as rigid as possible. He had no way to make a sound as Lucifer had stolen his voice again when he left him and he was glad of it. He didn’t want to show Lucifer or the other angels how badly he was hurting.

Lucifer drew his blade and held it up to the bars of the cage, making a rattling sound as Sam turned. It served the purpose of slowing the cage though, and soon it came to a halt and he was left facing a stone wall. Lucifer turned the cage so Sam was facing him and grinned at him.

“Was that fun?” he asked.

Sam turned away from him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of even an expression.

Lucifer reached through the bars with his blade and pressed it to Sam’s cheek. It cut a nick into his skin and he allowed Lucifer to turn his face as he’d intended so as not to create a deeper wound.

“I asked you a question, Sam,” he said.

Sam narrowed his eyes at him and shook his head.

“No? Shame. It was fun for me. Shall we do it again? Yes? No? Maybe not. I don’t want you to throw up. It’s unpleasant enough to be around you without you stinking of vomit, and hosing you down would be just as unpleasant.”

Bartholomew laughed softly and Lucifer preened. He had always loved praise of any kind; it fed his narcissism.

“So, Sam, you’ve had time to think, I know. Have you considered your lack of options and come to the conclusion that it’s easier and less painful for us all if you just tell me what I want to know now?

Sam shook his head and Lucifer sighed.

“That’s a shame. I would rather get this over sooner rather than later.” He turned to the angels with him and said. “I am working on something, and Sam here isn’t being forthcoming. I want to get back to my world, and he knows the spell I need. He won’t tell me though. He can be a smidge stubborn, isn’t that right, Sam?” He went on without waiting for an answer from Sam. “You were with that oaf Zach, Bart, so you must have been in on Michael’s plans. Tell me, what did he have you working on?”

Bartholomew cleared his throat. “We were mainly focused on annihilating the resistance.”

“The resistance just took the bus out of here, so they’re not an issue anymore,” Lucifer said. “What else were you doing?”

“Michael was consumed with finding a way to another world. When I took over from Zachariah, I was tasked with finding a way through the prophet Tran.”

“How did that work out?” Lucifer asked. “I know he had that one spell, I don’t suppose you know what went in it, do you?”

“I don’t,” Bartholomew said. “He had refused to use his grace for the spell, so they were looking for another way.”

Lucifer acknowledged his words with a nod. “That’s not exactly the spell I was hoping for anyway. That one only took one person as a time, and I think I’m going to need company when I go through. There are… challenges waiting for me on the other side. The more of you I can take, the better.”

“We’re coming?” Bartholomew asked.

“You are. Does that sound good?”

“Yes,” he replied fervently. “Michael always planned to make the trip alone. I would like to experience a different world.”

“Great,” Lucifer said. “Then we’re all happy. So, since Michael wasn’t going to ante up the grace, what else was he planning?”

“The prophet Tran said there was a way through with the angel tablet if you could find a place where the veil between words was thinnest. There was somewhere in the Void where a rift had opened before. It was where he was going when the nephilim started to make trouble for us and he abandoned the effort.”

Lucifer pointed a finger at him accusingly. “The nephilim has a name. Jack. He’s my son, and you’re going to need to treat him with the respect he deserves. When we go through the rift, he’s going to be your commander, too.”

Sam was glad he had no voice as he wouldn’t have been able to hold back the reaction he felt at what Lucifer was saying. Jack had been softening to Lucifer, dangerously so maybe, but he wouldn’t have joined Lucifer in what he planned for that world, would he? He was better than that. Sam hoped.  

“Yes, Lucifer,” Bartholomew said apologetically.

Lucifer brightened. “Okay, there’s something on the tablets, so I need them read. Where’s that tweaker Tran? If he knows about rifts and weak spots, I need to talk to him.”

“He’s dead,” Bartholomew said. “Michael left him as a trap for Jack and the Winchester woman. He turned him into a bomb.”

Lucifer sighed heavily. “Mickey really wasn’t big on forethought, was he? I mean, seriously, didn’t he think a backup plan might help?”

Bartholomew shook his head. “Apparently not.”

“This is a complication but not an end,” Lucifer said. “If one prophet has been turned in to human C4, there will be another prophet called. You know the names. Get some of the angels on it. I want a good one. Smart. Someone with a proper work ethic. If the first is no good, kill them and find the next in line.”

“Is there anything else?” Bartholomew asked,

“The tablets. If we’re bringing a prophet, we’re going to need them. Do you happen to know where Michael stashed them?”

“He has another fortress in the Void,” Bartholomew said. “He would have left them there.”

“Then send an angel to fetch them for me. And while you’re at it, get another to bring me a coffee and Danish. Sammy’s probably hungry by now.”

“Coffee?” Bartholomew asked, his brow furrowed.

Lucifer chuckled. “I’m kidding. Sam’s got bigger things to think about that his stomach, isn’t that right, Sam?”

Sam glared at him. He wasn’t hungry, nor thirsty, though he knew he should be. He’d had nothing since Lucifer had brought him back after the vampires. He felt empty but without any urge for sustenance. There were far more important things for him to think about. He was glad of Lucifer saving him now, even though it had ultimately brought him to this place, as it had reset his body, too. He wasn’t going to be forced to soil himself.

“See,” Lucifer said. “Told you. Sam doesn’t need anything. I do though. So off you go. Bring me what I need and we can get to work on my return trip.”

 Bartholomew nodded and left the room. His silent companion made to follow but Lucifer called her back. “Not you. There’s something else you can do for me. Close the door, Bart.”

Bartholomew closed the door behind him and Lucifer waited for something, perhaps the sound of Bartholomew leaving before calling the angel to him.

“You’ve got something I need,” he said.

She frowned. “I do?”

“Yes. Fighting Michael really took it out of me, and what I took from those two before wasn’t enough to build me up. I need more than just a snack. I need a meal. You understand, right?”

She nodded jerkily. “Yes.”

“Good.” Lucifer smiled at her as he cut across her throat and the grace spilled out. He leaned close to bring it to his mouth faster, and made a sound of relief as it poured into him.

Sam watched, feeling slightly sick. It wasn’t technically cannibalism, and he had no affection for any angel in this place, but it still made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t help but wonder if that angel felt as bereft losing her grace as Castiel had when Metatron took his.  

Eventually Lucifer pulled back and wiped a hand over her throat. The wound healed and she staggered back. “It’s okay,” he said in a voice that was clearly supposed to be soothing but fell short of the mark. “I didn’t take it all. You’ll be a little shaky for a while, but it will replenish eventually. Stick to light duties until it does. I’ll write you a note.”

“A note?” she asked weakly.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “How is it I spent millennia in a Cage but I am better assimilated with humans than you who have been among them—killing them—for years?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Lucifer waved a hand at her. “You can go. Sam and I need a little alone time.”

She rushed from the room, forgetting to close the door behind her. Lucifer tutted and went to close it then he came back to Sam with a glint in his eyes.

“Now, Sam, since I have all my ducks in a row regarding rifts, I think it’s time you and I bonded a little. It’s time to throw back to the good ole Cage days.” He raised his blade. “Let’s see how much you can handle, shall we?”

Sam gritted his teeth, determined to hide any sign of pain, and braced himself for what was coming, vowing to himself that he would handle this like a Winchester, like John and Mary’s son and Dean’s brother.

He failed after less than an hour.  

xXx

Mary stood outside Dean’s room, listening to the crashes coming from inside, and she bit her lip. She wanted to go in to him, but she didn’t dare. He was venting what he was feeling, and though she knew he was no threat to her, seeing her son in that kind of emotional breakdown scared her and she knew he wouldn’t want a witness to it. Dean was strong because he had to be. His life had forced that upon him. John had forced that upon him.

As much as she loved her husband and missed him, she held a lot of blame towards him, too. She could understand why he became a hunter, but to bring the boys up the way he had, to saddle Dean with raising Sam when he was barely more than a baby himself, wasn’t fair. She would never have expected it of the man she’d known and loved. He should have done better.

And now Sam was trapped, and whatever John had done to him had made Dean believe he was dead. He’d given up all hope and faith in him, declaring him lost and grieving for him when he wasn’t gone. She knew that because she felt it. No matter what choices she had made and the path she’d followed, how she’d let her boys down, she was still a mother. She felt that Sam was alive. She didn’t understand why Dean didn’t feel it too when he and Sam were so close.

The crashing inside the room stopped and Mary touched the wood of the door. She wanted to go in to him more than ever now, but she forced herself to walk away and return to the library.

There were far fewer people there now. Ketch was taking Bobby and his people to the motel, and Castiel wasn’t in sight. Jack, Rowena and Charlie sat at a table, none of them talking. Mary made her way over to them and sat down.

“Where’s Castiel?” she asked.

“He went for a walk,” Jack said. “I think he wanted to be alone. He was very upset.”

Mary nodded. Castiel was upset because he believed, like Dean, that Sam was dead. They were wrong. 

“Do you need a room?” she asked Charlie.

“No, Dean’s given me one. I’m just not quite ready to be alone yet. It’s been a weird day.”

Mary forced a smile for her. “It really has.”

She drew a shaky breath. When she’d started that day, she’d had her sons with her. They had been fighting to find a way to bring her out of that world, and she had been resisting. She saw now that she’d been selfish. Maybe people there had needed her, they were fighting a war, but her sons had risked everything to get her out. Sam had died for it. She hadn’t been thinking of them when she’d said she needed to stay. She was thinking of the other people she’d fought with. It should have been about the ones she loved, not the ones she believed, incorrectly, needed her. They had fought for years without her. It was Jack they’d needed.

She had let her boys down, and now one of them was trapped in that place and the other was breaking under the pressure of his grief. She just wished Dean would trust in her and Sam. He didn’t need to grieve. He needed to fight to find a way back to Sam, who was trapped with only the devil for company.

Suddenly, the breadth of the task waiting for them swept over her along with the reality of what Sam was living. She’d been there, she’d lived in that place, but she’d soon had Jack with her and he’d helped. She’d been freed. Sam just had Lucifer, and he hated him with passion.

She bowed her head and wiped at her streaming eyes. She wanted her son back.

She felt a hand on her back and then someone pushed a glass of whiskey in front of her. She looked up and saw Charlie beside her and Jack holding the decanter of whiskey.

“It’s what helps Dean when he’s upset,” he said by way of an explanation.

Mary gave him a small, sad smile. “Thank you, Jack.”

Charlie rubbed small circles on her back and Mary tried to get a hold of herself. She couldn’t fall apart. She needed to be strong now more than ever. People needed her to be. She wiped her face and cleared her throat, getting control over herself. She shot Charlie a smile and she nodded in return and went back to her seat.

Mary sipped her drink and savored the heat of it in her throat. When she lowered it, she realized Jack was still on his feet, staring at her. She looked him in the eye and said, “Sam isn’t dead.”

Jack nodded seriously. “I know. They’re both alive.”

Mary would have been happy to know Lucifer was dead, but she didn’t want to say that to Jack who, through no fault of his own, was confused about Lucifer’s true nature and the relationship he had with him.

Charlie cleared her throat. “I hate to be devil’s advocate, because he seemed nice and I obviously want him to be alive, but Dean and Castiel seem pretty sure he’s dead. How do you know he isn’t?”

“I feel it,” Mary said firmly. “He’s my son, and I know.”

Charlie raised her hands. “Okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just thinking… It doesn’t matter.”

“Michael didn’t have time to kill them,” Jack said. “He could have killed Sam, but he would have needed to fight Lucifer to kill him, and there wasn’t time between Dean coming through and him. And if he did kill Sam, my father would have saved him. He already did it once.”

Mary wasn’t confident that Lucifer would save Sam for any reason but to serve his own means. He had kept her alive when they’d been in Bobby’s world because he wanted her as a bargaining chip to get at Jack. She had to hope that he was using Sam for the same thing somehow.

She nodded decisively. “He’s alive.”

“Why do you think Dean and Cas don’t believe us?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know,” Mary said honestly. It was mystery to her, too.

“Any chance they know something we don’t?” Charlie asked.

“They know everything we don’t,” Mary said. “I missed so much of my boys’ lives, and they barely talk about what happened during those years. Dean told me some but…” She shook her head. The things Dean had told her in that tear-fueled letting of pain when he’d been trying to bring her back to herself were hard to think of, and they’d been the scantest details. She knew there was so much more neither of them had told her.

“But what?” Charlie asked.

“Nothing,” Mary said. “There is nothing that explains why he’s given up so easily. Or Castiel. It’s like they don’t want to believe. They’re wrong, and I will prove that somehow.” She looked at Jack. “Dean asked you to open a rift but you said you couldn’t.”

Jack looked sad. “I need a dreamwalker, and the only one I knew that was powerful enough to help me is dead now. If I could just see where to open the door, I could do it.”

“You can’t try without?” Mary asked.

Jack shook his head. “There are so many worlds, and some of them are even worse than that place. There is no knowing what I could do if I tried. Anything could come through.”

Mary wanted to say that it was worth it if it got Sam back, but she couldn’t do that. Sam would never want the world put at risk for his sake. She had missed most of her son’s life, but she knew that much for sure. There had to be another way.

“So we need a dreamwalker,” Charlie said. “I’ve never heard of them, but I’ve been living at war for years, so maybe times have changed here. Do they, I don’t know, advertise?”

“No,” Jack said. “It took me a long time to find one, and it was difficult.”

“We can try though,” Mary said, seizing on the idea. “The Men of Letters taught me how to do all kinds of things online. We can search for one that way.”

Charlie grinned. “That I can help with. I’m a little rusty, but I was pretty much a master hacker before the world went down the toilet. I once got through NORAD’s firewall and pretty much partied.”

Jack gave her a confused look. “Who’s NORAD?”

“Really doesn’t matter,” Charlie said. “The point is that if there’s a dreamwalker out there with any kind of online identity. I can find them.”

“What do you need?” Mary asked.

“A computer with an internet connection and a few hours’ sleep.” She caught sight of Mary’s face and quickly went on. “Who needs sleep? Sleep is for wimps. Get me the computer and I’ll get to work.”

“I have a laptop in my room,” Jack said. “Sam gave it to me so I could watch my mother’s videos whenever I like. I’ll get it.” He got quickly to his feet and rushed from the room. 

Mary looked at Charlie and spoke over the lump in her throat. “Thank you for this, Charlie.”

“Sure, no problem. I owe you and Jack for all you did for the resistance, and Sam did come save me when the angels had me and Ketch lined up for a slow death. I guess I owe him too. He seemed like a good guy.”

“He is,” Mary said fervently. “Both of them are.”

Charlie nodded. “Then let’s get one home to fix the other.”

Mary smiled. For the first time since Michael had come through the rift, she was feeling hopeful. She knew Sam was alive, and now, with Charlie’s help, they were going to find a way for Jack to bring him home. Dean would be happy again and they would be able to tackle Michael as a family.


	4. Chapter 4

Lucifer was smug when he came to Sam. His smile was wide and his eyes alight. He looked as though he was cradling a great secret. It worried Sam, as nothing that could make Lucifer look like that was going to be a good thing for him. 

“Hey, Sam,” he said cheerfully. “I’ve got a surprise for you. Want to guess what it is?” When Sam merely glared at him he shook his head. “You still can’t talk. Sorry about that. I forgot. Let’s loosen up that voice box.” He waved a hand and Sam felt the constriction in his throat disappear. “Better?”

“Fuck you,” Sam said, his voice rough after not using it for so long.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “Rude.” He pushed the cage away and made it swing.

Sam gritted his teeth as the spikes bit into the wounds that had already developed on his stomach, chest and back. Only by holding his neck stiffly was he able to avoid the ones that would pierce his face.

“Let’s try that again,” Lucifer said. “Where do you think we’re going?”

Even knowing his refusal to play along was going to cause him even more pain, Sam stayed silent. He didn’t care where they went. The only place that he could think of that would be worse was the actual Cage, and there was no way Lucifer would go back there. Wherever else Lucifer would take him would make no difference to his situation. He would suffer wherever he was.

Lucifer looked annoyed. He drew his blade and poked it through the bar of the cage and rested it over Sam’s left nipple. He had left Sam covered in shallow cuts the day before that pinched and pulled when Sam moved, but Sam thought he had something more intense planned for him now. He braced himself but the pain didn’t come. Lucifer withdrew his blade and smiled as he tucked it away.

“Later,” he said, the single word a threat. “I have something better planned for you now.” He set the cage to spinning slowly and walked around Sam in the opposite direction, his face flashing across Sam’s eyes with each rotation. “I don’t like it here, Sam. I don’t mean this world, though I am not a fan of that either, but this church. It’s basic and too Christian for me. Too much like Michael. Unimaginative. I want to go somewhere with a little more class.” He grabbed the cage and brought Sam to a painful stop. “Do you want to know where we’re going?”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“But you’ll like it, Sam. It’s home.”

From his pocket he pulled a familiar box with an Aquarian Star carved into the wood. Sam’s heart skipped and he fought to keep his expression neutral. He obviously failed as Lucifer crowed.

“I’m taking you back, Sam! You’re going to be cozying up in the old fires of home.” He grinned. “Michael got this key off of Abaddon but he didn’t know what it was for. I found it stashed among his stuff, and I figured why not? I want to be a good host, and where better for us to set up our new base of operations than your home?”

Sam did not want to go there. The bunker was their place, his family’s. It was Dean’s home; it was the first place he’d had that was his own space since he was a child. Sam didn’t want Lucifer defiling it with his presence and that of the other angels.

There was nothing he could do about it though. If that was where Lucifer wanted to go, it was where he would take Sam.

“Ready, Sam?”

In spite of himself, Sam shook his head.

Lucifer laughed. “You _don’t_ want to go home? Then this will be even sweeter.” He slid across the bolt that held Sam in the cage and dragged him out. Sam’s muscles had seized in position and he staggered as his feet hit the concrete floor. Lucifer held him up by gripping his shoulder tightly enough to strain the joint.

“The others are meeting us there,” he said. “There was some preparation they needed to do for me. I wanted it perfect for you. Ready? Good.”

His fingers pinched deeper into Sam’s shoulder and a moment later Sam was blinking in the library of the bunker.

It was almost exactly as he remembered it from the day he and Dean had gone there for the first time. The personal belongings that had been dotted around when he’d left his world were missing and the air was stale. The only thing different was the contraption set by the bookcases. It was metal and shaped like a Latin cross with leather straps nailed into the crosspieces. It lay at an angle so whoever was on it would be semi-reclined. Its function was clear at once, and Sam had to swallow down panic. Lucifer was going to use it as a rack.

Lucifer saw where Sam was looking and he beamed. “You like it?” he asked. “It’s not exactly what I hoped for, but it was the best we could do with the time we had. I think you’ll find it comfortable enough anyway.”

He dragged Sam over and pushed him so his back was against the center of the cross. It pressed against his wounds and burned, but Sam held the pain between his teeth, not wanting to give Lucifer the satisfaction. Lucifer dragged up his arms and strapped them into the leather restraints then bent to his ankles. Sam reacted automatically in resistance, even though he knew his small rebellion was going to hurt him. He kicked out at Lucifer, catching his jaw. Lucifer reeled back and then froze for a moment, his hand touching the place Sam had hit. He shook his head and then continued to strap him in before straightening. He looked at Sam for a moment as if appraising him, and then slammed his fist into Sam’s jaw. Pain exploded and he felt his teeth mash against his tongue and blood fill his mouth. He knew Lucifer had pulled his punch, as he would have had the power to knock Sam’s head from his shoulders if he hadn’t, but it still hurt. Sam spat blood to the side and it hit the floor, slick and bright red.

“That was very stupid, Sam,” Lucifer said darkly.

Sam glared at him.

“Do you have anything to say to me?”

Sam shook his head. He wouldn’t apologize. All he had left was his ability to resist this much, and he would not give Lucifer that along with everything else he’d taken.  

Lucifer looked murderous but there were footsteps coming up the stairs from the map room and he quickly waved a hand at Sam. Sam knew from the constriction in his throat that his voice had been stolen again.

Bartholomew appeared and his eyes roved over Sam for a moment, a smile of satisfaction curling his lips.

“What do you think, Bart?” Lucifer asked. “Does he look comfortable?”

“I would have to say no,” Bartholomew said.

“Perfect. I don’t want him comfortable. Sam and I have history that means he needs to suffer.”

Bartholomew nodded.

“Do you have news for me?” Lucifer asked. “Got my prophet yet?”

“No, but the tablets are on their way. I assigned a loyal angel to collect them.”

“I thought I told you to do that,” Lucifer said, a pinch of displeasure at the corners of his mouth.

“I thought I would be better able to serve you if I was to stay close,” he said.

“Probably true,” Lucifer said thoughtfully. “And the prophet?”

“We’re looking. The generation is depleted because of the war, but we’re confident we can find one outside of the confines of the central zones.”

“Good. Is there something else you wanted?”

“Just to see if I can serve you in some way,” Bartholomew said.

“Nope. I’m good. Sam and I have a busy afternoon planned. We need a little privacy in fact. Leave word that we’re not to be disturbed for anything less than a prophet, and I will call when I need you.”

Bartholomew bowed his head and disappeared, leaving Sam and Lucifer alone. Sam was already sore from his position on the rack, and he knew from the gleam in Lucifer’s eyes that it was about to get worse. 

Lucifer drew his blade and pointed it at Sam’s shirt. It was ragged from their last private session, with many cuts in the fabric from where Lucifer had sliced at him, but Lucifer seemed to want a clear canvas for his work now as he sliced it along the sleeves and front and them pushed it away from Sam, leaving his chest bare. Sam saw the evidence of Lucifer last play in the cuts to his skin; some of them were reddened and sore, which made Sam think they were developing infections.

“This would all go away if you would just give me the spell,” Lucifer said. “We could be back in your world by midnight. We might even be able to scrape enough of your family together for a funeral.”

Sam shook his head defiantly. He would never give that up. Lucifer could tear his body apart piece by piece and he would suffer unimaginably, but he would protect his world and its inhabitants from Lucifer. They already had enough to face with Michael there. The havoc Lucifer would cause would be unnecessarily cruel.

Lucifer sighed. “Then you’ve got to remember this is on you, Sam. Your pain is down to your pigheaded stubbornness.”

Sam just looked at him, knowing what was coming but determined to take it without breaking.

“Ready?” Lucifer asked, pressing the tip of the blade to Sam’s navel. “Then let us begin.”

Sam gritted his teeth and breathed through the pain as Lucifer carved into his flesh, making his jeans damp with his own blood.

xXx

Dean had thought he wouldn’t sleep, not knowing how he possibly could with the pain he was in and his racing mind, but he did. When he woke in the morning, he immediately felt angry with himself, and guilty. He had been resting while Sam was dead.

When Sam had gone to the Cage, Dean had struggled with sleep so badly Lisa had gotten a prescription for sleeping pills and given them to Dean, knowing that he would never see a doctor himself. For the first month he’d taken them and fallen into a drugged sleep that drove back his dreams, but when they’d run out he’d not asked her to get him more. He’d begun to take his sedative from a whiskey bottle instead, though that had not driven away the dreams. He would see himself in Hell again, presiding over the racks, but each soul that came had his brother’s face. He had torn at him and listened to his cries, and though it had hurt him immeasurably, each slash to Sam had been a slash to himself, and he hadn’t been able to stop.

He wondered if it was because Sam was at peace this time. He had faith that Sam was in Heaven. Billie had threatened them with the Empty, but she’d also sent that reaper for him. He thought perhaps she’d softened. Maybe the fact Sam was in a world where he didn’t belong would have canceled out the debt. Did that world have its own version of Death that knew nothing about Sam’s supposed risk? He had to believe it did, that Sam was at peace, as anything else would break his mind apart as well as his soul.

Though he thought there might be some relief in letting go of it all, he knew he couldn’t. Michael was in this world, and there were people that needed to be protected. He still had a family, even if a vital piece of it was gone.

He got out of bed and walked to the basin to splash his face with cool water. He looked into the mirror and saw the changed face that he had seen before. It was the face he’d worn when he was battling the Mark of Cain; it was how he looked when he was so full of rage that it threatened to burst out of him at any moment.

He knew he had to do something about it. Rage wasn’t going to kill Michael. He’d gone after Metatron with rage, and that had ended with his own death. He had to be smarter this time. He could save anger for when he was alone. The rest of the time he had to be a tactician. That had never been his strength. He was the muscle while Sam was the mind, even though Sam had argued against that many times. He had to be the mind now, too, as there was no Sam to balance him.

As he wiped at his face with a towel, he saw the evidence of his destruction the night before. Broken records had slipped out of their sleeves and the card covers were torn and slashed. He kicked them under the bed, not wanting to see them but not having the time or energy to clean them up either.

He walked out of his room and closed the door behind him, and then made his way to the library. It was still early and he was expecting it to be empty, but Bobby was sitting at the table with a bleary-eyed Charlie who was hunched over Sam’s old laptop. She was tapping at the keys feverishly, talking to Bobby. “Do you believe they’ve got WiFi down here? And the speed of this thing. I was still getting used to Vista. This thing has Windows 10! There are apps instead of programs, and don’t get me started on the processor.”

“I’ll try not to,” Bobby said dryly.

Dean cleared his throat and they looked up, a guilty expression spreading across Charlie’s face at once. Bobby just looked cautious.

“Morning,” Dean said to break the awkward moment.

Bobby relaxed, perhaps seeing Dean was in a better state than the night before, and Charlie smiled with her usual brightness.

Dean walked to them and sat down opposite them at the table. “What are you reading?” he asked Bobby.

“A Study Of Archangels,” he replied. “Thought there might be something in here about Michael. These Men of Whatever were pretty damn smart. How did they study archangels when none of them stepped foot on earth in Millennia until 2005?”

“No idea,” Dean said. “Seems like they researched everything.”

Bobby nodded. “I’ve never seen so many books in one place that I want to read. I feel like a kid in a candy store.”

Dean remembered Sam’s face the day he’d caught sight of the library for the first time, the way his eyes lit up with the gleam they always had when he was excited. Dean had accused him of geeking out, but he’d been pleased really. Sam had deserved a win after they’d lost Henry.

“What about you, Charlie?” he asked.

Charlie bit her lip nervously. “I’m doing something for Mary and Jack.”

Dean felt a surge of anger that he tried to beat down. Whatever job they’d set her up with, it had to be something to do with Sam. “What do they want?”

“They want me to find a dreamwalker. Jack says he can create a rift if he knows where to open it.”

“Give it up,” Dean said.

“I told them I’d…” Charlie broke off as Dean’s expression darkened.

“Stop,” he said. “There’s no point. All we’re going to do by opening a door to that world is let an army of angels slip into this one, not to mention Lucifer if he’s still alive. It’s not going to help Sam, and he wouldn’t want more trouble for this world. Tell them whatever you like, but stop. You don’t want to be responsible for bringing more danger to this world, believe me. I’ve been there.”

Charlie closed the laptop. “Okay,” she said quietly.

“Thanks,” Dean said.

He was pleased he’d reached her. His Charlie would have done whatever she could to help, too. She had died trying to save Dean, but she wouldn’t have knowingly risked the world to help. She’d been smarter than that.

“Maybe you should get some shuteye,” Bobby said to her. “You’ve been at that all night.”

“Sure. Okay,” Charlie said. 

She got to her feet and patted Bobby’s shoulder and then walked from the room.

Bobby closed his book and looked at Dean. The expression he wore now, the way he looked when he was ready to say something that wasn’t going to get a good reaction, was achingly familiar.

“Tell me to mind my own business if you like, but why are you so sure Sam’s dead?” he asked. “Seems to me Mary and Jack made good points.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. “I just know he is. I can’t explain it, but I know it. He _has to be_ dead.”

Bobby looked confused, but he didn’t push for more.

Dean changed the subject to the more pressing issue they had. “Michael is here now,” he said.

“He is,” Bobby agreed.

“How did you handle him in your world?”

Bobby ran a hand through his beard. “Honestly, we didn’t. We just avoided him. If you were unlucky enough to see him, it was the last thing you saw. He didn’t let people live. We heard plenty about him from the other angels, they were real proud to serve him and we even captured a few to interrogate, but mostly it was just boogeyman stories.”

“We’re going to have to face him here,” Dean said. “We can’t let him destroy our world, too.”

“I agree,” Bobby said. “And this time I think we have a chance with Jack. He’s damn powerful, and I saw that power growing in our world.”

“Yeah, the lore said he’d get more powerful over time.”

“And he was determined to do it,” Bobby added. “I think if he’d just had a chance in our world, he would have done it. We’ve got to find Michael first though. He has to be leaving signs. I’m not talking about omens, but he’s not going to be quiet. We usually had an idea of where he’d been in our world at first, because destruction followed him.”

Dean considered. If Michael was ready to create another hell on this world, he would make noise like Lucifer had.

“How did it happen in your world?” he asked. “When it started I mean. Did the world go to hell fast, or was there build up?”

“It happened pretty quick, but not overnight. The battle came first. It started with a hurricane in Kansas, the eye of it was over a place called Stull, and it spread across the state. We think it ended over Abilene as there was a big-ass storm circle there that we think was Lucifer actually biting the dust. The whole area became the Great Barren Plains in the end.

“The disappearances started next. When Michael came to earth, he brought a lot of angels with him, and they needed vessels. There were suddenly missing persons reports all over. And that was the ones that were willing. When the angels ran out of devout that would give it all up, they turned their attention to other potentials. They threatened family members of the vessels, killing them if they still didn’t get consent. The weird murders seemed to keep doubling. The cops were at a loss, and the media were shouting about a cult of serial killers crisscrossing the country.”

“That’s not going to help us,” Dean said. “We’ve only got a handful of angels left in our world, and they’re doing their best just to keep the lights on in Heaven. They’ll be no use to him.”

“He’s going to need something else then. He’ll want troops. We had our own, armies of humans, but we were pretty much wiped out.”

“Do you think he’d use Demons? We’ve got plenty of them.”

“I wouldn’t think so. He went to war with them in our world. That was what caused the real destruction. A hell gate opened in Montana and the demons spilled out with Azazel at the head. Every human that lived there was either taken as a meatsuit or killed in the shockwave. The only demons left were the tempters, and they were nasty sons of bitches. They could tackle an angel pretty neatly. They usually stuck to the Void, the place I first met you, and no one went there by choice. I was there as I heard about some refugees coming from the Northern Ice Fields, but by the time I found them, they were already dead.”

“You think he’ll go to war with demons again?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know. It would be time-consuming for him to do it alone. He can only kill so many at a time. Honestly, I don’t know what he’ll do. He’s definitely got fewer options here than he had in our world. Maybe he’ll just be satisfied with living in this place.”

“You really think so?” Dean asked, not believing it himself.

Bobby shook his head. “No. I really don’t. I know he’s less of a threat here though, as he doesn’t have his army.”

“What about the rest of your world?” Dean asked. “Did Michael take it all?”

“We don’t know. Before communication broke down there were rumors of things happening overseas, disappearances and storms. Canada was destroyed along with the States, We…” He sighed. “I don’t know. We always hoped there was still a world out there beyond the Southern Wall, but that was probably because we wanted to. I never saw the wall. That was a basically suicide mission; the angels guarding it were ruthless. I don’t see Michael leaving the rest of the world to live when he could destroy it as easily as he had North America.”

Dean felt the same. Michael wouldn’t stop when there was more territory to be gained, more people that he could kill. If he was working from the same plan here, it meant the whole world was in danger again. He’d faced it before, more than once, but then he’d had Sam with him. How was he supposed to do it alone?

“There were over three-hundred-million people in the US alone when Lucifer rose, maybe thirty million in Canada, and there are just a few thousand of us left now spread across the two countries. They hit us hard. I don’t want to see that happen here, too, so I’m with you for whatever you’re planning. But I don’t know what good I’ll be. I’m just an old hunter that learned what you probably already know about angels from all the times you’ve tangled with them.”

“You’re more than that,” Dean said. “You created a resistance in that world. You created bullets that could kill angels. And if you’re anything like our Bobby, you’re a hero.”

Bobby shrugged. “I did what I had to do.”

“So did our Bobby, and he was the best hunter I ever knew.”

Bobby smiled slightly. “He sounds like a good guy.”

“He really was. I miss him more than ever now.”

His Bobby would understand how Dean felt now that Sam was gone. He’d seen what Lucifer had done to him before, and he would know why Dean had to believe he was dead. Dean and Castiel would have a little support.”

Bobby cleared his throat roughly. “Well, I don’t know how like him I really am, but I’ll do what I can. I think your first step is to talk to your boy Jack though.”

Dean nodded. “I will.”

“He was in the kitchen with your mom earlier.”

Dean thanked him and stood and headed to the kitchen. He wanted to get Jack locked into the plan fast so they were ready when it was time.

He heard Jack’s voice before he reached the kitchen, and Mary answering him.

“Do you think it will take Charlie long?”

“I don’t know,” Mary replied. “I hope not. We need to get him out of there.”

Dean felt a wave of the anger that he’d suppressed talking to Bobby rising in him again. The fact they wouldn’t accept the truth was like someone squeezing his heart. Their denial made it hard for him to deal with it. They needed to accept the truth.

He marched into the kitchen and Mary broke off mid-sentence. They were sitting at the table and they followed him with their eyes as he walked into the room.

“Charlie is off the case,” he said curtly.

Mary gasped. “What? Why?”

“Because it’s a waste of time and we need her to focus on finding Michael.”

“It’s not a waste of time!” Mary said angrily.

Dean held up a hand to her and addressed Jack. “We’re going to be looking for Michael, and we need you on the top of your game when it’s time.”

“I will kill him,” Jack vowed.

Mary shook her head. “Jack’s untested against Michael.”

“He’s going to stay untested until we try,” Dean said.  “Michael is here now. Sam and I spent all these years saving the world. I am not letting it be destroyed now he’s gone. I owe him better than that.”

All Dean could do for Sam now was protect his legacy. It was all that was left of who he had been.

“I can do it,” Jack said determinedly.

“We don’t know that,” Mary said

Jack shook his head and stared Dean in the eye. “I can. Just find him and I’ll do it.”

“We’re going to be looking,” Dean said. “Charlie’s sleeping right now since you had her chasing shadows online all night, but when she’s up, she’s going to start looking.”

Mary jumped to her feet, letting the chair fall back onto the floor. “She wasn’t chasing shadows! She was finding us a way to Sam!”

Dean raked a hand over his face. “You’ve got to let this go.”

“You expect me to let my son go?”

“He’s already gone!” Dean said, his hands fisting. “You just need to accept it. Opening a rift is just going to give the crazy angels there a chance to come to this world, too. Sam is past saving.”

“He’s not!” Mary’s voice rose to a shout.

Dean spoke quietly, barely holding in his anger. “I know you ‘ _feel’_ he’s alive, but I know the truth because the way I feel is the same way I felt when he died in my arms. You need to accept that or it will drive you mad.”

Mary’s eyes filled with tears, but Dean didn’t know whether they were from anger or sadness. “I am not giving up on him, Dean. He’s my son.”

“And he’s my brother,” Dean said. “That’s how I know you’re wrong. Sam is gone, and that’s better for him.”

“He’s better dead?” Jack asked. “I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t,” Dean said. “You were not here for it. You didn’t see what happened.” He looked from Jack to Mary and said. “Leave Charlie out of this. She has more important things to do than to help you doom the world.”

Mary’s mouth dropped open. “I’m not…”

Dean held up a hand. “You are, you just don’t know it. It’s a Winchester trait. Neither me nor Sam knew we were either.”

He turned away from her and walked from the room, trying to calm his heart that felt like it was beating against his ribs, to stop himself going back and shouting at them for making this harder with their denial.

“What does he mean?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know,” Mary said. “But I’m going to find out.”

 Dean smiled grimly. She wasn’t. The story of their failures belonged to him and Sam. She didn’t need to know.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam knew he had slept, even though he didn’t feel rested, as the wounds on his back burned deeper than before from where he had been pressed against the spikes.

He was back on the rack now though, and Lucifer was presiding over him once again. His movements seemed perfunctory, as if he was merely going through the expected motions rather than enjoying what he was doing to Sam. He was slicing at Sam’s chest, opening his flesh to the air and making Sam bite down hard on his tongue to keep himself from showing the pain, but there was no art to it. The cuts were random.

They still hurt though, and Sam’s tolerance was not what it had been in the Cage. He’d built up resistance there in the end that meant more of the agony of the last decades of his time had been able to be contained within himself, though he’d never been able to stop himself begging completely. Sometimes, he had been unable to deny Lucifer the pleasure of his cries. It was horror more than pain that had gotten a reaction from him in those days. There were only so many times you could feel hands being shoved into your laid open body cavities before you started to break.

He had never broken completely though, not the way Adam had. Sam didn’t know how long he’d lasted, it seemed only a matter of years rather than decades, but one day he had been on the rack, screaming in pain, when he had fallen suddenly silent. Sam thought it was over, that they’d stopped, though that was usually when the sobbing began, but Adam had not made a sound. Lucifer and Michael had bowed over him, concealing him from Sam’s view, and when they’d pulled back, muttering disappointedly, Sam had seen Adam’s empty eyes. He was gone, his soul destroyed.

His loss had meant two things to Sam: his own torture became the archangels’ sole focus rather than them splitting their time between the two of them, and Sam had failed his half-brother. He had done what he could to protect him before, angering the archangels so he spent more time on the rack than Adam, exchanging their places when he was allowed, but it hadn’t been enough. Sam had learned everything about being a big brother from Dean, and he’d tried to live to those same standards for Adam, but he hadn’t been able to save him as Dean had saved Sam. He’d felt he had let both of his brothers down that day.

He had felt the need to break, too, many times over the decades, knowing that if he stopped fighting the darkness and promise of oblivion that so often crept over him, it would be over, but pure Winchester stubbornness had made him keep fighting. He’d known Dean would have expected it from him. If he’d given up, it would have been the same as committing suicide, and Dean would never accept that from him. He had proven that after Sam was back, when he had tricked Sam into letting Gadreel in rather than letting Sam bow out by choice.

He didn’t feel the need to break now. While he believed Dean and the rest of his family were alive, he knew he had to hold on. They could not come for him; there was no archangel grace to be had but Michael’s, and when they went against him it had to be to kill not harvest, but he still had a duty to them to be strong. Besides, Lucifer hadn’t really let loose on him yet. He was keeping Sam alive.

Sam was drawn from his own thoughts of resistance and attempts to block out what Lucifer was doing to him by the arrival of angels. There was a female in whose hand was an old sack that bulged at the bottom; Bartholomew was at her side.

“Clara has brought the tablets, Lucifer,” Bartholomew said.

Lucifer turned his attention from Sam and grinned cruelly. “Finally. Took you long enough. Let’s have a look.”

Clara handed him the sack, and he reached in and extracted two tablets, letting the sack drop to the floor in the sticky pool of Sam’s blood that had dripped from him as Lucifer worked.

“Which is which?” he asked, weighing them in his hands.

Clara pointed at the one in his left hand and said, “That is the angel tablet, I believe. Or perhaps it’s the demon. It’s hard to tell.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Basically you have no idea. Great.” He handed one to Bartholomew and examined the other. “You’d think He’d at least make it possible for an archangel to read them. His reliance on humans is plain stupid. Why trust something so corruptible with something so important?”

“I don’t know,” Bartholomew said.

Lucifer walked away and set the tablet on the table. “How’s the search for my new prophet going?”

“We’re still searching,” Bartholomew said, placing the tablet he still held beside the first. “We have discovered that Luigi is dead, and Justin, too. Aaron was killed in a vessel retrieval situation at the start of the demon wars. He was very young.”

Lucifer winked at Sam. “Ahh, the good die young, right?”

Sam felt a chill of horror at the thought of that child being killed. He was an innocent. What kind of angel would kill him? He knew they were cruel and twisted from what he’d seen, but he’d always thought that demons were the real monsters, the ones that involved children as Lilith had. Though he supposed that Castiel had once wanted to use Claire as a vessel. Maybe they weren’t that different after all.

“What about the others?” Lucifer asked. “There has to be one of them left.”

“We’re searching,” Bartholomew said.

“Search harder,” Lucifer said. “If I’m left waiting much longer, I’m going to start smiting.”

Bartholomew nodded. “I will send more angels to search now.”

He walked swiftly from the library and Clara made to follow, but Lucifer called her back. Looking nervous, she came towards him and bowed her head. “Yes, Lucifer.”

“I need a little something from you,” Lucifer said.

Sam knew was what coming when he raised his blade, wet with Sam’s blood, but Clara evidently hadn’t heard about the other angels Lucifer had taken grace from, as she seemed about to question him again when the tip of the blade sliced across her throat. 

Lucifer drew in the grace and then healed her. She staggered back, her hand coming to the point Lucifer had cut, looking shocked.

“Thanks for that,” Lucifer said. “You can go.”

Wavering slightly on her feet, Clara left Lucifer and Sam alone.

Lucifer watched her go and then turned his attention to Sam. “Yummy,” he said with relish. “You’ll be pleased to know that was the last hit I needed, Sam. I know how violence upsets you. Though maybe I’ll have a booster shot now and then. I sure feel good.”

Sam truly didn’t care about the angels that Lucifer was feeding from, but the fact he was gaining strength each time worried him.

“With them and the way my own grace has replenished after my little spat with Michael, I’m on top of my game again, and I think it’s time we tried again. I’ll give you a choice though, as I am a reasonable archangel, unlike my brothers. You can tell me the spell yourself, or I can start digging into your head again and having a good rummage around.”

“Go screw yourself,” Sam said bitterly.  

Lucifer shrugged. “Then this is down to you, Sam. Whatever you feel or see, it’s your own fault.”

He set down his blade on the top of the bookshelf beside the rack and came back to Sam. He pressed his hands to the sides of Sam’s head again, tight enough to fracture, and Sam felt the rush of memories again. Prepared for them this time, Sam was able to keep himself from getting lost in them. He imagined each of them as a view through a door, and he slammed them closed. When Lucifer came to Rowena again, the ingredients for the spell laid out in front of her, Sam imagined the heavy door of a bank vault and slammed it shut, spinning the lock.

“No!” Lucifer shouted.

He pulled back, leaving Sam panting from the effort of blocking him out.

“What are you fighting for?” he asked. “Do you want to see that world turned to dust like this one? I thought you, being a Winchester, were all about saving people.”

“Letting you go back isn’t saving it,” Sam said. “It’s dooming it. Jack will stop him.”

“And how’s he going to do that without me? He doesn’t have his father to guide him.”

“You’re not his father. He has Dean and Cas, my mom. They’re his family, not you. They will help him do this together.”

Lucifer’s face darkened with fury and he picked up his blade again. He lowered his voice to a threatening whisper and leaned close enough that Sam felt his breath on his face. “I am at my full strength again, Sam. I can do anything I like to you. And what I want to do right now is this.” He drew back his arm and thrust it forward, driving the blade into Sam’s chest.

Sam screamed as his heart gave a fragmented last beat, and then he was plunged into darkness. His last drifting thought was that at least death would be a break from the pain. 

xXx

Castiel heard their voices long before he reached the library. Dean was speaking to Charlie, and his sharp, bitten off words showed that he was getting frustrated again.

“There has to be _something_! Are you sure you’re looking for the right thing?”

“Go easy,” Bobby cautioned.

“I’m looking for _everything_! Charlie said. “We’re working with a large scope here though, and angels aren’t like demons. They don’t leave signs we can track.”

“We need to find him!”

Dean had been vacillating between fiery anger, eerie calm, and absolute devastation. Castiel didn’t know which was the worst. When Dean was angry, he vented it at everyone and anyone, when he was calm, it was chilling as it wasn’t like he was aware the people around him were relevant as anything other than a means to an end to find Michael, and when the devastation came, he would isolate himself in his room and they would only hear the sounds of destruction.

Castiel could relate most closely to the devastation, as that was how he felt.  He missed Sam. He hated what had happened, especially as it had happened so soon after they’d experienced the miracle of him coming back after the vampires had killed him. It was wrong and unfair that he was dead, that Castiel would never see him again, that his friend was lost, but he knew, as did Dean, that death was a better outcome than being trapped with Lucifer. 

He was trying to get through how he felt to help others. There was a whole group of refugees from the other world that needed to be assimilated to this world and, as he’d had experience of that after the fall, he made it his mission to help them. There was Dean that needed to be guided and monitored through the rises and falls of his mood, and Mary and Jack who were still trapped in their delusion that Sam lived. Dean had cut off Charlie’s assistance for them, so they were researching themselves, closeted away for hours in the kitchen with a laptop, searching for a dreamwalker, avoiding Dean’s eyes and anger.

Castiel walked into the library and saw Dean standing behind Charlie’s seat at the table, the laptop open in front of her and her hands flying over the keys. Bobby was beside her, and his expression was tense but he was silent.

Dean turned to Castiel and breathed out a harsh breath. “I wondered where you were. I was about to come looking. I need to ask you something.”

“What do you need?” Castiel asked, trying to keep his tension from his voice.

In truth, he was worried that the question he dreaded had finally occurred to Dean, and he wasn’t sure Dean would believe the lie. Like Castiel, Dean was sure Sam was dead, not only because the evidence pointed in that direction, but because he needed him to be. They had to believe Sam was out of reach of Lucifer, but that meant he would be somewhere else, and Castiel knew where that was.

Sam had no place in that world’s heaven, and it was a separate entity to the heaven that was close to failing in this one. He didn’t exist there, so there was no passage for him from earth to peace. There was only one place that spanned all worlds, and that was the Empty. It was the space between each world, and that was where Sam would spend eternity. Dean didn’t know that, couldn’t know that.

It was possible that Sam was there, sleeping as Castiel should have been, but the Winchesters defied odds all the time. It was also entirely possible that Sam was awake and roaming that place as Castiel had been. It wasn’t a fate Castiel would wish upon anyone, that endless darkness, least of all for the man he thought of as a brother.

It was his secret to keep though. Even if Dean asked, Castiel would have to lie and hope he was believed. Dean didn’t need more grief on top of that which he already felt.

“You’ve got to go to Heaven,” Dean said. “Ask if they know anything about Michael—if he’s spoken to any of them or been there.”

Castiel knew he could not have been there as he no more belonged in that heaven than Sam did in the one of his world, but he pretended to consider. “That’s a good idea, but Naomi closed the portal.”

“You’ll have to get her to open it again,” Dean said dismissively. “We need to know if he’s been there.”

“I will find a way,” Castiel promised.

Dean nodded and turned back to Charlie without another word.

Castiel stood for a moment, searching for words that would reassure and, failing, walked out of the library and headed to the garage. 

xXx

When Castiel got to the playground where the portal had been located, he was surprised to see Indra sitting sentinel on a bench. Castiel had assumed that he would have returned to Heaven to bolster the efforts to maintain it.

He looked different to the last time Castiel had seen him. Then he had been clutching a bottle of liquor in an attempt to get drunk and forget his situation, but he was sober now and his stiff posture was as it had been before the Heaven began to fail.

“Indra,” Castiel said. “I need to go to Heaven.”

Indra got to his feet and walked towards the sandpit. He drew his blade and began to draw the carefully constructed sigil in the sand.

“When did Naomi open the portal again?”

Indra looked up from his work and smiled rapturously. “With the coming.”

Castiel thought he knew what that meant, and for a moment he wondered if Michael had somehow found a passage into Heaven despite the fact he did not belong before it occurred to him that it was impossible, just as it was impossible for Sam.

Indra stepped back from the sandpit and recited the Enochian required to open the portal. “Odo Madariatza.”

The light crept up from the sigil into the sky and Castiel stepped into it. There was the sensation of movement and then he was standing in a long white corridor lined with doors. He set off at once toward the office where he had met Naomi before, walking with purpose, but he was met before he reached it by Dumah.

“Castiel,” she greeted, and Castiel sensed the same change in mood in her as he had in Indra. She seemed happy, despite the fact the lights above them dipped and shone periodically, showing that Heaven was still weak.

“I need to see Naomi,” Castiel said.

She nodded once and walked away, Castiel hurried to follow her.

They arrived in the room in which he’d met Naomi before and Dumah directed him to the couch. “I will tell her you’re here.”

Too tense to sit, Castiel paced instead, wondering at what he had seen. The angels he’d met seemed to have been reenergized by something that he didn’t understand. Indra said the coming, but Michael could not have come here. God could not be back as Castiel would surely know. He would have come to their aid. No, he had to be with Amara still, reconnecting as Dean had explained they were. It was something else.

“Castiel,” Naomi strode into the room, her hands extended to him in uncharacteristic greeting.

Castiel looked her hands, wondering what it was she expected from him, and then sat down to break the awkward moment.

She sat down beside him and asked, “How are you?”

“Confused,” Castiel admitted. “I see you’re still struggling to maintain Heaven, so I am confused by your obvious good mood, all of your moods.”

“Don’t you know?” she asked. “Didn’t you feel it, too?”

“Feel what?”

“The shift. The arrival of an archangel.” Her eyes were alight as she went on. “It feels like Michael.”

“It is,” Castiel said, and her face became rapturous. “But it is not the Michael of this world. Ours is trapped in the Cage still, and according to Lucifer, he’s lost his mind. This Michael came from a world in which the apocalypse came into being, the world I told you about.”

“It doesn’t matter where he’s from,” Naomi said. “What is important is that he came for us.”

Castiel sighed, understanding the change finally. “He’s not here to rescue us, Naomi. This Michael is deranged. He beat Lucifer in his battle and turned the world into a wasteland. Humans were almost completely annihilated and his angels were heartless soldiers.”

“He is strong,” Naomi said. “That’s good. We need strength.”

 “He’s not our Michael,” Castiel said again, “He’s corrupted. He destroyed a whole world.”

“It doesn’t matter how different he is, Castiel. It only matters that he saves us. We’re getting weaker by the day. We need him. Perhaps that world was different, but I knew Michael and I know what kind of warrior he is, the power he holds. Heaven will fail without him.”

Castiel looked into her eyes and saw the manic gleam in them. She wasn’t hearing what he was saying. All she cared about was that there was an archangel in the world that she thought could help them. He couldn’t though. He was trapped on earth with no way into this Heaven.”

“He cannot come,” he said. “This is not his Heaven.”

“He’s the mightiest of all angels. He can do whatever he wants if he sets his mind to it. He will come for us.”

“He’s evil,” Castiel said passionately. “You didn’t see what he did to that world.”

“To _that_ world,” she said scathingly. “To _humanity_. God created the Great Flood and killed almost all of humanity; would you call him evil? No. Michael’s world may have suffered, but his heaven must have been great, his host mightier than we have been since creation. Perhaps he will not help the humans here, perhaps they will die, but it’s Heaven that matters now. We were tasked with maintaining it, and with him we will not fail.”

“And if he doesn’t come?” Castiel asked. “If he leaves you alone here?”

“He won’t,” she said confidently.  “I served under Michael. I know who and what he is.”

Castiel shook his head. He could not reach her. Perhaps she really believed what she was saying out of loyalty to the leader she’d known, or perhaps it was because she needed to believe it. Whichever it was, she was no help to Castiel. She obviously knew nothing more than Castiel about his whereabouts.

“If he comes, if you see him, will you tell me?” he asked.

“I will, as long as you promise to do the same. If you see him, tell him what is happening here, make sure he knows we need him and will serve him faithfully.”

As if to punctuate her need, the lights dipped and glowed again.

If Castiel saw Michael, it would be to see Jack kill him, but he made the promise anyway. “I will.”

He needed to know if they saw him so they could strike. Michael needed to be stopped before he created more destruction, this time in the world Castiel loved. He could not tell her that, as she would probably kill him for it.

“Thank you,” she said with obvious sincerity. “We’re on the same side, Castiel. Michael will save us. You will see.”

Castiel forced a smile for her and nodded as if he believed her. He didn’t. He knew better. He now had enemies to add to Michael. The angels that lived, few as they were, would kill him if they knew what he and his family were planning. He had lived under threat of death at their hands many times before and he was the one that came out of it alive, but he was more than aware that even a single angel kill was a blow against the effort to keep Heaven running. He had to do what he could to save Heaven as well as his world and humanity, while Naomi was only concerned with Heaven.

They were not on the same side. 


	6. Chapter 6

Sam woke to darkness.

It was so absolute that he wasn’t immediately convinced he had opened his eyes at all. He blinked and tried to see though the black to his surroundings. He was lying on something, but as he could see nothing, he was immediately wary of moving. It was only after considering the possibility of forever lying in darkness that he pushed up from the surface beneath him and stood. When he did, the area around him seemed to clear slightly. He could now see his hand in front of his face and looking down he saw his bare chest and jeans—now cleaned of his blood—and heavy boots.

He stepped out tentatively and felt the surface beneath him. Gaining confidence, he began to walk, his steps becoming more sure the further he went.

He knew where he was as Castiel had told him about this place—the Empty—though he had no idea why he was awake when Castiel had said it was supposed to be a place of endless sleep.

He understood why he was there. Billie had told Dean that it was where they were heading when they died, a final end to their constant deaths and resurrections, though Dean had thought she’d changed her mind. Sam was satisfied with his fate. If he was here forever, it meant he was no longer with Lucifer. He wouldn’t be tortured anymore, he wouldn’t break and tell Lucifer what he wanted to know, he would have something akin to peace. It was the best possible outcome for his situation.

He pondered the fact he was awake as he walked. Castiel had woken as Jack had reached for him. For a moment he wondered what could have woken him, and then a thrilling thought occurred to him. If it was Jack that had reached him, it meant he really was alive. They could all be alive as he’d hoped. They could be working on a plan to get him out of the apocalypse world. Perhaps it would be even easier now that he was in the Empty. He had thought it was the place that existed between worlds. If he was right, Jack could reach him there and perhaps bring him back. He could be with them within hours if the thing Castiel called the Entity came for him. Castiel had said he had been able to persuade it to send him back so it could sleep again. Perhaps he could do the same. The idea of being with them again was like coming up for air after an eternity underwater with burning lungs.

He found himself smiling for the first time in days as he walked on, wondering if he could find the Entity or if it would find him, when another idea occurred to him and he felt the weight drop into his stomach as he crashed to a halt. If they were alive, they would be consumed with stopping Michael. Jack would be occupied preparing for that battle. He wouldn’t be reaching for Sam in the Empty when he believed him to be trapped in that world.  Unless he was alone now and reaching out in any way he could think of to find some family.

If his family _had_ died, leaving Jack alone, he would want someone with him. He would need it as much as Sam did. Maybe Lucifer was right and they were dead. Jack could be all alone with no one to help him face Michael.

He felt crushing sadness at the idea. Jack shouldn’t be searching for him. He should be focusing on defeating Michael. Having his attention split was dangerous to him and the world. Michael was the priority.

He started walking again, trying to escape his grief. He was almost jogging when he tripped over something and sprawled to the floor. He quickly scrambled to his feet, instinct taking over, and reached for a weapon that wasn’t there.

“Ow. What the hell was that?”

He heard movement and then a chuckle as the man stepped close enough for Sam to see his face.

“Hello, Moose. Nice of you to drop by. And I do mean drop literally. Did you lose track of your clown feet?”

“Crowley?” Sam stared at him in wonder.

“Did you hit your head?” Crowley asked. “Of course it’s me. Who were you expecting? Santa?”

“How are you awake?” Sam asked.

Crowley shrugged. “I can’t be sure, but I _think_ I was woken by the giant moose kicking me in the back. How about you?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “I just woke up.”

Crowley rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. “It’s alright for some, isn’t it? The rest of us just have the eternal nap here. You Winchesters always were blessed with the luck of the devil, though I suppose it didn’t work out that well for him in the end, did it?”

“Have you seen anyone else?” Sam asked.

“Are you asking if I dream or if we have little get-togethers here? I don’t dream, and I haven’t seen anyone else. It’s not like I’m sharing a cuppa with Lilith and Azazel. For which I am hellishly grateful. They were bad enough when they were alive. I don’t fancy spending time with them dead. I doubt they’ve improved much because of their eternal nap. Speaking of which, how long has it been since my tragic but heroic demise?”

“About a year,” Sam said.

“Is that all? Feels longer. It was nice to get a bit of shuteye after all that time, and it was better here than sleeping in the gutter as I did when I was a kid. Still, I’m up now and I’ve got company. Let’s talk. What are _you_ doing here? What was it this time? Demon deal, noble sacrifice for Dean’s life or the end of the world?”

“Lucifer killed me,” Sam said.

He saw Crowley glower in the dim light that came from somewhere Sam couldn’t pinpoint. “”You’re telling me you got stuck with him in that armpit of the universe after I _died_ to close the rift and trap him?”

“Not at first,” Sam said. “He was trapped, with my mom, but he got out again. We went back and Lucifer was kinda thrown through after us.”

“To save your mom? Winchesters! All about the family and stupid decisions.”

“It wasn’t a stupid decision,” Sam said defensively.

“Not to you perhaps, but to the rest of the free-thinking world it was an epic mistake. So, tell me the rest. You got yourself trapped in that place with Lucifer, and he killed you, but what happened before that?”

Sam drew a breath and gave him an abbreviated account of the year since Crowley had died, explaining about Jack and Lucifer, the other world and Michael, and how he was in their world now.

Crowley nodded along and when he finished, said, “So Lucifer’s kid had a growth spurt, is actually good instead of the antichrist, and Crazy World Michael is now in our gaff? That’s great. Good work, Moose, tell Squirrel I said so too when you see him.”

“I’m not going to see him again,” Sam said quietly. “I think he’s dead. Even if he isn’t, I’m here now.”

Crowley snorted. “You’re trapped now, but we all know that’s not going to last, and you think big brother’s dead?”

“I think they’re all dead but Jack.”

Crowley shook his head. “You don’t _think_ that. You fear that. There’s a difference. Leaving aside the fact you Winchesters have more lives than you’d find in a crazy cat lady’s bungalow, Michael has bigger fish to fry in that world than taking out his best and shiniest vessel. He’s got one, sure, but we both know Dean is the prime real estate.”

Sam felt a flicker of hope. It was true Michael would want the best vessel, and in his world Sam and Dean weren’t born, so he’d never had access to it, but would he know that? And didn’t that put Dean in even more danger? What would Michael do to him to get consent? What would he do to the people Dean loved?

“What’s with the moody face?” Crowley asked. “What’s going on behind that Cro-Magnon forehead of yours this time?”

Sam shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it more. He didn’t even want to think about it.

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong,” Crowley said.

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re always wrong,” Crowley said gleefully. “When you see Dean again, and you will, make sure you raise a glass of that rotgut you swill and remember I’m always right. And that I always win.”

“We beat you,” Sam reminded him.

“Don’t brag.”

“And you’re dead now,” Sam went on.

“But I died on my own terms. It was my choice, no one else’s. Like it was with you when you took the dive with Lucifer and Michael. You did that to save the world, I know, but we both know that it was to save Dean and the rest of your band of misfits first and foremost. You beat him once, and you’ll beat him again, because you know that will protect them. You’ll do it on your terms.”

“I’m dead, Crowley.”

Crowley threw up his arms. “I’m not arguing the point anymore. You can angst all you like. I’ve not had a conversation in a year apparently, and I’m not wasting it trying to drag your stubborn ass into the light of truth. Tell me what else I’ve missed. How’s my mother?”

Sam shook his head. “She’s good. She’s helping us now. She was the one that opened the rift so we could get to my mom and Jack.”

“She’s Team Winchester?” Crowley asked doubtfully. “Don’t trust her.”

“I think she’s really changed,” Sam said. “Your death affected her. She tried to make a deal with Death to bring you back.”

“She did?” Crowley asked with a raised eyebrow. “Hang on. I thought Dean shivved Death with his own scythe.”

“It’s Billie now. The next reaper that died became Death.”

“Billie got a promotion? Good for her. Always knew she was headed for big things. Send her my congratulations when you see her next.”

“I’m not seeing her, Crowley,” Sam reminded him.

“Yeah, yeah, because you’re trapped and dead and so’s your brother and the whole world is a big mean place. I know. Change the record. Tell me a bit more about mother. How did her deal work?”

“She was killing reapers to get Billie’s attention. She wanted you back. She felt really guilty about what had happened to you, in life and as a demon. I think she really cared.”

Crowley sniffed. “Maybe. Doubtful though. She was a terrible mother.”

Sam shrugged. “She changed.”

Crowley shook his head and said, “So, apart from killing you, what’s Lucifer doing?”

“Trying to get back to our world,” Sam said. “He wants me to tell him the spell we used to open the rift. He’s torturing me.”

“Ahh, his default move when it comes to you, right? How’s that working out for him?”

“I’m not breaking,” Sam said, though he wondered now, with Dean and his family dead, how long he would be able to hold on.

“Of course you’re not. You have endless faults—I can list them if you like—but you’re pretty smart and you were strong enough to make it through all that time in the Cage without giving up completely. You can handle him until Dean comes for you.”

Sam was on the point of replying when he heard footsteps approaching. His eyes darted around into the darkness and he tried to gauge where they were coming from.

“Did you happen to trip over anyone else on your way to me?” Crowley asked.

“No.”

“Then I think your cab is here. Was nice seeing you, Moose. Stay strong and all that. Remember you’re a Winchester. And make sure you kick Lucifer’s ass for me.”

A shape appeared behind him and Sam blinked dazedly at his own face. He knew it had to be the Entity as Castiel had seen himself, too, but it was still a surreal experience.

“You should be sleeping,” it said to Crowley.

“Don’t blame me,” he said. “It’s hard to sleep when you’ve got three-hundred pounds of Winchester stepping all over you.”

“Sleep.” The Entity pressed a hand to Crowley’s chest and he dropped hard to the floor. “That’s better. Now, let’s see about you. I think you’ll be a little harder to deal with. I can feel that damned archangel reaching out for you, scraping at my mind. He can’t reach you, of course, but I can send you.”

Sam took a step back. “No! I’ll go to sleep. Please, I will sleep!” He would choose an eternity of dreamless sleep over more time at the mercy of Lucifer.

The Entity shook its head. “You won’t, and he’ll keep reaching. It’s better for us both if you’re gone.”

He reached for Sam and gripped his shoulder. Sam felt a burning pain and then he was gasping for breath and looking into Lucifer’s too close eyes.

“About time,” Lucifer said pulling back from Sam’s face. “I thought you were never coming back.”

Sam looked down at his bare chest and saw the wounds Lucifer had created were healed. He was intact and ready for more of Lucifer’s art.

“Where were you?” Lucifer asked.

Sam narrowed his eyes and stayed silent.

Lucifer sighed. “Fine. I’ll look for myself.” He pressed his hands to Sam’s head, and before he could even prepare a door to close, Sam saw his conversation with Crowley rushing through his mind.

“Crowley?” Lucifer said, his tone heavy with amusement. “That must have been nice, the chance to chat with an old friend. He’s wrong, of course. Dean is dead. So are Castiel and Mary. Jack’s the only one left. And the idea that you can do anything on your own terms is pretty funny. Though I guess there’s one thing you can do. You can tell me what I want to know. Why don’t you exercise that right now and save me a lot of work and you a lot of pain?”

“No,” Sam said through gritted teeth.

“You sure? Definitely? Okay. Then you might want to find your happy place, Sam, because I’m going to town this time.”

Sam bit down on his tongue as the pain seared across his chest. Lucifer was at play again. 

xXx

Mary was listening to Jack talking animatedly about Michael while she ran though yet another page of search results for dreamwalkers. It was another endless day of searching, and Mary’s eyes were blurring from staring at the screen for so long.

“I know I can do it,” Jack was saying. “We just need to find him. It would be easier if I had my father, as he understands my powers better than I do, and he knows Michael, but I can do it alone if I have to.”

“It won’t be easy,” Mary warned. “Michael won’t be like the angels you faced before, and he already held you prisoner once.”

“That was different,” Jack said, annoyed. “That place was warded against me, and I didn’t have the power then that I’ve got now. I’m getting stronger all the time, Mary.”

“I know,” she said tiredly. “I still worry though. I want you to be careful.”

“I won’t win if I’m careful,” Jack said. “I need to give it everything I have. Like Sam told me to.”

Mary frowned. “Sam told you that?”

“When he was trying to help me master my powers. He told me I had to delve into myself and find what’s there. I had to use it. That’s what I’m going to do with Michael. I’m going to war.”

Mary sighed. She was scared for him. She thought he probably _could_ defeat Michael given enough time and training, but there was no time and no one to train him—that was one good thing Lucifer could have done if he was there. Jack was right; Lucifer understood Jack’s power in a way none of them did. When Mary looked at Jack, she saw his human side, the kind nature and goodness from his mother, but it was the side it took from his father that he was going to need to fight Michael, and none of them could help with that.

Mary felt like she was failing on all fronts. Jack was preparing to face a battle with the archangel that had already destroyed one world, Dean was drowning under the pressure and his misplaced grief, and Sam was lost. She had no idea what was happening to him in that world, but she knew enough of Lucifer and that place to know it wouldn’t be good. They needed to get him back already.

“And when I have him, I’ll be able to get his grace,” Jack went on. “We might not need a dreamwalker at all. We can get them both back with the spell.”

Mary sighed. “Getting Lucifer back really isn’t the point, Jack.”

Jack frowned. “It is for me. I want Sam back, of course. He’s my family. He was the first person that was kind to me after I was born. He trusted me. But I believe my father can be good, too. He was different when he spoke to me. He wasn’t like you all said. He was trying to be good.”

“He was trying to trick you, Jack.”

“No,” Jack said defiantly. “He saved Sam after he was killed by the vampires. If he was as bad as you all say, he wouldn’t have done that. I know he did bad things, he hurt people, but he’s changed. You’ll see it when he’s back.”

Mary knew there was no point arguing with him. He believed what he believed and she wouldn’t be able to change his mind. It would take Lucifer showing his true colors for him to see that they had been right all along. 

Jack seemed to sense her defeat as he changed the subject. “I’ll get Michael’s grace and Rowena can do the spell, or we can use a dreamwalker.”

“Did I hear my name?” Rowena asked, sashaying into the room.

“We were talking about the spell,” Jack explained.

Rowena sighed. “Yes. That.”

“What’s wrong?” Mary asked. “You can do it, can’t you?”

Rowena made a performance of pouring herself a coffee from the pot before answering. “Why are you so determined to open a rift? Surely you see it’s pointless and dangerous.”

Mary flushed with anger. “Saving my son is pointless?"

Rowena look her in the eye and Mary saw no malice. If anything, she looked sad. “You have to know Sam’s gone,” she said.

“He’s not!” Mary said defiantly. “Why are you all so determined to write him off?”

Rowena sighed. “We’re not writing him off. We’re hoping for the best for him.”

Jack frowned. “How can him being dead be the best?”

“Because then he’s free,” Rowena said. “He deserves peace, and if he’s alive, that’s the last thing he has with Lucifer.”

“Lucifer will take care of him,” Jack started, but Rowena held up a hand to silence him.

“I’ve heard about your new… thing… with your father. You think he’s good. I even understand why you’d want to think that. I’m not a stranger to complicated parental relationships, believe me. But the fact is Lucifer is a monster. Sam knew that, too. He was scared of him. I saw Sam facing Lucifer in hell when they were trying to fight the Darkness—when I was working with Lucifer. Sam was terrified, and that was with bars between then. He told me he’s seen Lucifer’s true face, and I understand what that does to a person. Fergus told me he spent time in Hell with Lucifer. Even he, who could find a joke in anything and a way to exploit a weakness, spoke about that with respect. I know what the devil’s capable of. I don’t want Sam to suffer that again.”

“He’s different!” Jack said hotly. “He’s changed.”

Rowena shook her head. “He’s not capable of change, dear. He is what he is.” She fixed her eyes on Mary “If you want to know why Dean thinks Sam is dead, you should ask him. I think it’s the same reason I hope he is though.” She turned to Jack. “And if you really want to know what kind of person your father is, ask Dean what happened to Sam last time he was trapped with the devil. Get the story from them and I think you’ll see for yourself that there are some things that can’t be changed, some people that are just evil at heart.”

She raised her cup to them as if making a toast and then left the room without another word. Mary watched her go and then quickly slammed the laptop closed and jumped to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Jack asked.

“To talk to Dean. I have had enough secrets and half stories. I want to know what happened to him and Sam while I was gone. I want to know what Lucifer did to him.”

Jack pulled the laptop over and opened it. “I’ll keep looking for…”

Mary slammed the laptop closed and grabbed his hand. “No. You’re coming with me. There is more to this than either of us know, and it’s time we found out what.”

She wanted to know what had happened to her son, and she wanted Jack to hear it. If it was as bad as everyone seemed to think, perhaps it would be enough to break whatever bond it was that had developed between Jack and Lucifer.

Even if it didn’t, Mary wanted him to know, too. They were family, and she was done having only half of the story and secrets kept. She deserved to know the truth. 


	7. Chapter 7

Sam was back on the rack. He’d spent a long time in the cage, and there were new, deep wounds on his stomach and back from where he’d fallen asleep against the spikes. The fact he could sleep at all when leaning against them was a mark of how exhausted he was. What was happening to him was draining all the energy he had.

Lucifer was leaving him alone at the moment. It was not a gesture of goodwill but rather because he seemed to have become bored with hurting Sam. He was pacing up and down the library, occasionally taking books from the shelves only to flick through the pages and throw them down onto the floor when done. It was simple destruction, slowly taking Sam’s home apart, but it bothered Sam more that it should have given his situation. It was like Lucifer was taking pieces of what this place had been with what he was doing there—torturing Sam and treating the contents with disrespect—so that Sam was losing his fond memories of the place, only seeing Lucifer there now.  

There were footsteps moving across the polished floor, and Sam and Lucifer both looked around to see their visitor. It was Bartholomew, and he was looking smug.

“Give me good news,” Lucifer commanded. “I’m having a bad day.”

“We have found a prophet,” Bartholomew said proudly.

Lucifer brightened. “Finally. Where is it?”

Bartholomew cleared his throat and two other angels came into the library, leading a woman between then. She was probably in her fifties and she had black hair threaded with grey and braided over her shoulder. She showed no signs of trying to escape them, but they were gripping her tightly anyway. Her eyes fell on Sam and her mouth dropped open, but she quickly looked away.

“This is Maria,” Bartholomew said. “She was in the Northern Ice Fields.”

“Ice Fields?” Lucifer asked.

“Canada,” one of the angels holding Maria said.

“Good name. Sounds chilly. I run a little cold myself, so I might have to give this place a look before I go home.” He turned his attention to Maria and crooned her name. “It’s good to _finally_ meet you. It apparently took some real work to track you down.”

She shook as she met his eyes. “Are you Michael?”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “You never met him? You’re telling me he never put facetime in with the humans? It feels like I’ve hardly done anything else since I took over.”

That explained what Lucifer was doing when Sam was put back in his cage.

“No one saw Michael and lived,” she said. “Where is he?”

“Dead,” Lucifer said happily. “I’m the younger, better-looking, and infinitely more fun brother. Lucifer.”

“I thought you were dead,” she said.

“Your world’s version of me is. I’m not from around here. My world is still shiny, and that’s why you’re here. I’ve got a little reading material for you.” He walked to the shelf where he had put the tablets and set them down on the table. “Have a seat, Maria. “I want you to be comfortable while you work. A happy prophet is a productive prophet.”

She frowned. “Prophet?”   

“No one told you?” Lucifer asked. “My angels apparently aren’t particularly loquacious. Yes, you’re a prophet.”

She nodded slowly. “My dreams…”

“Dreams?” Lucifer asked.

“Yes, I dream of awful things. Once it was angels coming to my home and killing my friends. It happened the next day. I couldn’t stop it.”

Lucifer nodded eagerly. “Perfect. You’re obviously tuned in to the right station. You should be able to read these easily. Take a seat.” It was more of a threat this time.

She pulled out a chair and quickly sat down, looking scared.

Lucifer pushed the tablets towards her and said. “Can you read these?”

She picked up one and squinted at it. “It’s strange. It’s not words. They’re more like hieroglyphs, but they _form_ words. This one says angels.”

“And you can read them?” Lucifer asked.

“I can read some. I was an anthropologist before the end. Egyptology was my specialty. I was able to decipher things some of my colleagues couldn’t.”

“That makes you my new favorite person,” Lucifer said. “I need you to read this one.” He took the angel tablet from her and handed her the demon one. “We’re looking for anything about opening a door to a different world. It might be called a rift. It will be a spell that involves blood and fruit along with a couple other things.”

She lifted the tablet and examined it. “There is so much here. How do I find what you’re looking for?”

“I suggest you start reading,” Lucifer said curtly. “Bart, get her a pen and paper. She’s going to need to make notes.”

“I’ll need peace and quiet, too,” she said. “I can’t work properly with distractions.”

Lucifer’s face darkened, and he came to Sam with his blade drawn; he slashed across his stomach, drawing a harsh breath from Sam.

“That may be hard to find here,” Lucifer said. “Just because he can’t talk, doesn’t mean Sam can’t be noisy.”

Maria swallowed hard. “Who is that? Why is he tied to that thing?” Sam suspected that she was less concerned for him and more worried that she might be the next one to end up on the rack.

“This?” Lucifer asked with a wide smile. “This is Sam. He’s the last person who told me he needed peace and quiet. You and him are going to develop quite the bond. See, for every hour it takes you to find what I need, Sam is going to suffer a little more. Isn’t that right, Sam? Do you want your voice back so you can beg her to work fast?”

Sam shook his head minutely. He would not beg.

Bartholomew set a pen and a pad of the paper Sam had used in his world to make notes in front of her and Maria grabbed at it. “I’ll be fast,” she promised, looking terrified now.

“Good,” Lucifer said. “Because the clock is ticking, right, Sam?”

Sam glared at him. Sam might lose everything else, his family, his freedom, his life, but he would not play along with Lucifer. He would let himself break first.

xXx

Dean was only half-listening to Castiel telling them about his trip to Heaven. He’d heard enough to know the angels were deluded into thinking Michael could help them, and he’d pretty much given up from there.

There were more people listening though. Charlie and Bobby were curious about the angels in this world, the supposedly ‘better’ ones than those in theirs. Ketch was taking in the words as if they were an interesting college lecture, studying them for clues about the creatures the Men of Letters had never had a chance to experiment with.

Rowena sashayed back into the room with a cup of coffee in her hand. She took a seat beside Ketch, and Dean noticed her giving him a fond look. He’d not noticed it before, but he thought something might be developing between the witch and the former man of letters. It bothered him. Ketch had no connection to Sam, and Rowena’s was weak, but the thought of anything else happening, romance building, so soon after Sam’s death felt wrong.

Dean was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard stomping footsteps coming into the room. Castiel fell silent and all eyes watched as Mary came to a stop leaning on the table beside Dean. Jack stood a few feet behind her, looking uncomfortable.

His mother looked angry, and Dean was confused. She’d been tired, stressed and possessed by her manic search for a dreamwalker, but she hadn’t been really angry since they’d come through the portal and Dean had realized Sam was dead. 

“We need to talk,” Mary said, her tone brooking no argument.

Dean knew what they were going to be talking about, and he knew that it wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have sober. He’d been careful about his alcohol consumption, not wanting to be loaded when the news finally came through about Michael, but he weakened now and reached across the table for the decanter of whiskey in front of Bobby and a glass. He poured a large measure, drank it, and then poured another.

“What do you need, Mom?” he asked.

Mary drew a deep breath that he thought was designed to calm her, but her voice was harsh as she said, “What is worse than death?”

“Plenty of things,” Dean said. “Hell. Purgatory. The Empty. Take your pick.”

“Tell me!” Mary demanded. “Why do you have to think Sam is dead? Why is it impossible for you to believe he is alive still?”

Dean closed his eyes and willed back the swell of anger that tried to overwhelm him. It wasn’t her fault, he reminded himself; she didn’t know the whole story. He couldn’t make himself say the words though. They were too painful.

“Castiel,” Mary prompted when Dean refused to meet her eyes. “You think he’s dead, too, so why don’t you tell me?” Her tone was accusing.

Dean felt Castiel’s eyes on him and he nodded without opening his eyes. “Go ahead.”

Castiel cleared his throat, but his voice was still rough when he spoke, as if he was speaking through a throat as constricted as Dean’s was. “Michael killed Sam,” he said. “And if he didn’t, Lucifer did.”

“No!” Jack said. “He wouldn’t! He saved him, and if Michael had killed him, he would have saved him again.”

“He saved him for you!” Castiel said, his voice now harsh with anger. “He wanted you to believe he was better than he was. He wanted to fool you. It worked. He fooled you. But _we_ know Lucifer, Jack, and we’ve seen what he’s capable of. He would not save Sam a second time. He would only hurt him.”

“Maybe he is better now,” Jack said obstinately.

Dean heard the crash of a chair and his eyes snapped open. Castiel was on his feet, his fingers gripping the edge of the table and his face flushed as he shouted.  “What will it take for you to see he’s evil?”

“Maybe the truth,” Mary said quietly. “You talk about hell and souls, but you don’t really _tell_ us anything. Neither of you. What can be so bad?”

“Hell can,” Castiel said. “Both of your sons have been to Hell. They have both been tortured.”

Mary sucked in a breath and her wide eyes fixed on Dean. “Dean?”

Dean shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” Castiel said, no longer shouting but still obviously angry. “Sam died at the hands of one of Azazel’s special children because Azazel manipulated him into doing it. Sam was _murdered,_ and Dean made a demon deal to save him. For Sam’s life, he got one year before the hounds came for him. The deal came due and Dean was dragged to Hell. He was there four months of earth time, forty years of Hell. Do you want to know what happened to him there?”

“No, Cas,” Dean said quickly. He was ashamed of what happened to him when he was in Hell, what he did there, and he didn’t want his mother to know, too. He didn’t want to see the look in her eyes when she knew what he had become, when she imagined the souls he tortured.

Castiel shook his head jerkily. “Your son suffered more than any man ever should, and all because he wanted to save his brother’s life.”

“Everyone suffered there,” Dean said, his voice quiet in the silence of the room. He had the attention of everyone, and he forced himself to go on. “The things they do to you and the choices you make break you. You become less than you were. I made that deal to save Sammy’s life, and I didn’t regret it once, no matter what they did to me, but I didn’t know what I was going into when I did. And then I let Sam go there, too. I persuaded myself he deserved to make the choice, that I had to let him be a man finally and make his own decisions, but I was wrong.”

“Sam was possessed by Lucifer,” Castiel said. “And he was strong enough to drag both Lucifer and Michael into the Cage. He was a hero, he saved the world, and it cost him everything.”

“They tortured him,” Dean said, his mind filling with the dreams he had of himself torturing Sam. “Every day for months, years, decades, almost two centuries, while I was up here without a way to help him, he was suffering. I searched everywhere for a way to get him out, even though I’d promised him I wouldn’t, because I couldn’t let that happen to him. But I couldn’t get him back.”

“I got him out,” Castiel said. “But I didn’t even do that right. I could tell you about Hell, the sounds the smells and the darkness, but you wouldn’t be able to understand it. You can’t unless you’ve been there. I went there to save Sam. It took so long to break into the Cage that I thought I never would, and when I did, I saw something worse than the most awful nightmares. Lucifer and Michael were fighting, and Sam was abandoned in the corner of the Cage with the man that had been Michael’s vessel. It was too late for me to save Michael’s vessel; he was already gone, his soul dead. You have no idea the kind of force and agony it takes to break a soul. I took Sam and carried him out with me, unseen by the archangels who were so intent on what they were doing, and brought him back to life.”

Dean had never heard the story of his rescue from Castiel, and he listened as attentively as the others. He also felt the same horror as their faces betrayed.

“You said Sam lost his soul,” Mary said, her eyes on Dean.

“He did,” Castiel said. “I was wrong, you see. I thought Lucifer and Michael were fighting each other, but they were really fighting over Sam’s soul. It was just his body that I rescued. The essence of Sam was left behind.”

“What does it mean to live without a soul?” Bobby asked, speaking for the first time since the stories had begun.

“It means he was empty,” Dean said. “He was wrong. He didn’t care about anyone but himself. You don’t know Sam, so you can’t understand how wrong that was. He hurt people and killed others to achieve his ends. He almost killed our Bobby, and he loved him like a father. He had no conscience or moral compass at all. He just did what he wanted to do. He was the best and worst hunter I had ever seen.”

“But you got his soul back,” Charlie said. “He’s not like that now. He was all kinda… squishy… when I saw him.”

Dean smiled slightly at the perfect description of Sam. “Death got it back for us. I made a deal with him. And it was probably the worst thing I ever did in my life.”

“How can you say that?” Mary asked. “It sounds like he was a monster without his soul.”

“He was,” Castiel agreed. “But he wasn’t suffering without his soul. He wasn’t damaged.”

“Cas told me not to do it,” Dean admitted. “And Sam begged me not to. But I was so sure I was right. I couldn’t leave him the way he was. He wasn’t my brother like that. But all that time in the Cage had damaged his soul.” He looked at Castiel. “What did you say it felt like?”

Castiel looked apologetic as he repeated his words from all those years ago. “Like it had been skinned alive. The damage Sam sustained in that place was horrific. How it didn’t kill him outright I will never know. It was a miracle he woke up at all. But he did. He was Sam again. Death had put up a wall between Sam’s mind and the memories of the Cage and he functioned almost as well as he had before he went to Hell. He was protected.” He lowered his voice as he made his admission. “Until I tore the wall down.”

Mary looked aghast. “You did what?”

“I tore it down,” Castiel said. “I was not myself at the time. Raphael and I were at war, and I thought stopping Sam, Dean and Bobby interfering by incapacitating Sam was the only way to win. I flooded Sam’s mind with the memories of the Cage, and…” He looked at Dean.

“It nearly killed him,” Dean finished for him. “He was hallucinating Lucifer, remembering all the things that happened to him there, and it was taking him apart piece by piece. He hung on as long as he could, I have no idea how, but it got too much. He couldn’t sleep. It went on for days, and he was dying right in front of me when Castiel saved him.”

“I took the experience from him,” Castiel said. “Sam remembered what happened to him there, he still had the fear and nightmares, but the worst of the trauma became mine.” He looked at Jack. “I also feel and remembered everything your father did to Sam. I know how much of a monster he is. And that is why we have to believe Sam is dead, because, if he isn’t, he is suffering like that again; he is being tortured and his soul, already so damaged, is being torn apart all over again.”

Dean nodded. “If either of you love him, you have to pray he’s dead, too. It’s the best thing for him now.”

Mary wiped at her wet face, her lip trembling, but Jack was still unexplainably calm. “It’s different this time,” he said quietly. “He’s changed.”

The anger surged through Dean’s veins, as painful and potent as an electric shock. He jumped to his feet, sending the chair crashing to the floor, and ran at Jack. “He’s not changed!” he bellowed. “He’s the same monster now that destroyed my brother as he was then. He can never change. He’s an animal. He broke Sam.” His hands closed around Jack’s throat and he started to squeeze, to make Jack feel an iota of the pain he was in, but Jack disappeared, leaving his hands clutching nothing.

Dean’s legs weakened and someone wrapped their arms around him from behind, holding him up as he crumpled. He roared with rage. Jack still wouldn’t believe it. What did they have to do to show him that Lucifer was evil? How could he not see the truth about that monster after everything they’d told him?

“It’s okay,” Castiel said in his ear. “He’s gone.”

Mary stepped into his view and wiped away the tears of fury that had slipped unnoticed from his eyes and down his cheeks.

“I understand now,” she said gently, and Dean tried to calm himself. “You need him to be dead because it’s better than him being alive. But what if he isn’t, Dean? He could be alive in that place with Lucifer, and he could be hurting like that again. We have to open a way there and find him. If he’s dead, we can lay him to rest, and if he’s alive, we can save him.”

Dean drew in a shaky breath. He had been consumed with Sam being dead and at peace, so sure of it because he needed to be, but he hadn’t considered what could really be happening properly. They needed to know. There was the slimmest, most abhorrent chance that Sam was alive, needing their help, and they had to save him if they still could.

He got his feet under him and patted Castiel’s arm around his chest. “I’m okay.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Castiel released him and Dean wiped a hand over his face. “We do need to know. What have you been doing about a dreamwalker?”

“We’ve been searching for signs online,” Mary said.

Dean nodded and turned to the table where the others were still sitting, looking shell-shocked. “I’m on that now. Charlie and the rest of you can work on Michael. We need a way to Sam more.”

He could tell from Bobby’s doubtful expression that he didn’t agree with Dean’s priorities, but he didn’t speak. Dean was glad. His Bobby would have understood that he wasn’t giving up on the search for Michael. He was going to dedicate himself to that, but he was also going to find a way back to that world where his brother was and, be it dead or alive, Dean would bring him home.


	8. Chapter 8

Sam was walking in the darkness, Crowley chattering at his elbow.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you again, but I’d prefer a nice chat to following you as you run around like a headless chicken looking for your brother when you and I both know he’s not here.”

“He could be here,” Sam said. “I need to be sure.”

“How?” Crowley asked. “It’s not like you’ve tripped over anyone else lately. He could be having the eternal nap like I was, even if he is here.”

Sam shook his head. He knew Crowley was probably right, but he had to believe Dean was here if he was dead. He needed him. He had to talk to him, to apologize for Michael getting through. Perhaps if he hadn’t taken time with Lucifer, they could have closed the rift after him. It would have been worth even Lucifer coming through if it meant Michael didn’t. There was so much he wanted to say and if he didn’t find him, he never could.

“Shake your head all you like; we both know I’m right. And you’ve probably not got long till your doppelganger arrives and tosses you back into the world of racks, cages and bloody torture. Why not stop and enjoy the break while you can? You don’t know when, or even if, Lucifer will send you here again.”

“I need to find Dean,” Sam said.

Crowley sighed. “Fine. I’ll help you out. Dean, oh, Dean, are you here? Little brother would like a word.” He paused a moment and made a theater of listening for a reply. “Nope, no sign of him. Maybe you should try something else, like talking. How’s that Maria getting on with the tablet?”

“There’s nothing yet,” Sam said. “Lucifer tortures me for every hour that passes without anything. It’s death at the end of each day she fails.”

“Which is a nice break. Does he know you end up here with me?”

“Yes, he saw it in my mind. I think he just enjoys killing me so much that it doesn’t matter to him that I get this for a while.”

It was like that in the Cage. It took Lucifer decades to learn to take his time hurting Sam, drawing it out. At first, he would go for the big finish too fast, tearing out Sam’s heart, only to start again the moment the Cage repaired Sam’s body.  

“That’s handy,” Crowley said. “I like our little chats.”

Sam snorted. Only Crowley would find something to appreciate in the situation. Sam was in a figurative hell, Dean, Mary and Castiel were probably dead, but Crowley enjoyed their ‘chats’.

Of course Sam also preferred his time in the Empty to being with Lucifer, and it was better when he was in his cage than on the rack. At least in the cage he was in control of his pain. If he fell against the spikes, it was his own fault. When he could remain strong and awake, they didn’t touch him. It was better now that Lucifer killed him before putting him in there, too. It meant Sam was healed when he was in there. The pain was less.

Footsteps approached from behind, and Crowley sighed. “Time’s up, Moose. See you again this time tomorrow.” As the Entity arrived, he spread his arms and said. “I know, sleepy time again.”

The Entity sent Crowley to sleep with a touch and then fixed his attention on Sam. “I am getting _tired_ of this,” he said. “Tell that archangel to stop sending you here.”

“I don’t think that’ll work,” Sam said. “Nothing I say makes a difference to him.”

“Try harder. I am not going to keep doing this.”

Sam wondered if that meant he would stop sending him back to Lucifer or if he would find a way of hurting him that Lucifer had not yet tapped.

“I’ll tell him,” Sam said.

The Entity nodded. “Good. Now, goodbye.”

He reached for Sam a moment later Sam felt sharp pain in his back. He quickly straightened up and looked around. Lucifer was there, pulling his hand back through the cage bars, and smiling.

“Rise and shine, Sam,” he said. “You were gone a while. I had to wrangle you back in here myself for the night. It’s morning now, and there’s lot of fun to be had.”

“The Entity wants you to stop killing me,” Sam said.

“Is that what it really said, or is this your way of hoping for a reprieve?

“Look in my mind,” Sam said. “It’s getting tired of me.”

“It’s not the only one,” Lucifer said. “I’m pretty sick of you, too. That’s why you have to keep dying. It’s only when you’re gone that I can think. You’re a thorn in my side. I have been exploring my new kingdom, and you’re spoiling it. It’s not as good as what I had planned for our world; there are no rabid humans for instance, but there are rabid angels which are fun. Michael did a pretty good job. This place can be enjoyable, but I can’t enjoy it properly because of you. Knowing you’re here, still refusing to tell me what I need to know, niggles. If you could just give me the spell, I could put us both out of our misery.”

“Go to hell,” Sam said.

“Really, Sam? Hell? That’s so 2010.”

Sam closed his eyes and Lucifer swung the cage in annoyance. The spikes jabbed into Sam and his eyes snapped open again to see Lucifer’s cruel smile. He unbolted the cage and yanked Sam out. Before he could get his feet under him. Lucifer was dragging him out of the dungeon and into the file-room then the hall. Maria was standing there, watching them.

“Don’t do it–“ Sam started, imploring her, but Lucifer stole his voice with a jerk of his hand.

“Forgot about that,” he said. “Thanks for the reminder, Sam. Now, Maria, how are you today? Looking forward to another session on the tablet? Think you will have a breakthrough for me?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” she said. “I will try.”

“Good,” Lucifer said. “Isn’t that good, Sam. The faster she works, the less you suffer.” When Sam didn’t react, he grabbed a hank of Sam’s hair and yanked it up and down so that Sam’s head nodded. “Perfect. We’re all happy.”

He dragged Sam through the library with Maria following and then strapped Sam into the rack. “I’ll give you a minute to settle, Maria, before we start. That okay with you, Sam?” When he received no reply, he smiled cruelly. “If Sam could talk, he’d tell you about our world, Maria. It’s a place of wonder. I am sure you remember what this world was like before Michael was let loose, but our world is so much better than that. The weather is always interesting thanks to global warming, America has the best president it’s ever seen, and the economic climate is booming for the rich with the tax breaks and the elevated prices. You’ll love it.”

“Me?” her voice was a squeak.

“Of course,” Lucifer said. “After all you’re going to do for me, the least I can do is take you with me. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’ve got no one here left hanging on for.”

“No,” Maria said quietly. “The angels that came for me destroyed my whole settlement.”

“That’s perfect. You can have a whole new start in my world. I might even introduce you to my son, Jack. He’s a real chip off the old block. He’s powerful, handsome, and pretty much invincible.”

Sam glared at him. Jack was nothing like Lucifer. He was good where Lucifer was evil. He thought of others where Lucifer only thought of himself. He wanted to protect a world that Lucifer wanted to destroy. Sam loved Jack and hated Lucifer.

“Sam disagrees,” Lucifer said. “Perhaps he’s jaded to the beauty of that place. With all he’s seen, who wouldn’t be? It doesn’t matter. I’m probably not taking him with me anyway.” He leaned close to Sam and spoke into his ear. “You seem to like this place, Sam. You are so desperate to keep us here anyway. I think you should stay. I’ll pass on your regrets to Jack. Don’t worry. I’ll give you a heroic end for my boy to treasure. Maybe you can be the hero that defended me from Michael by jumping in front of his blade. Do you think he’d believe that? No, maybe not. I’ll come up with something.”

Sam turned his face away from him, trying not to listen. The truth was that Lucifer probably was going to get back to their world now that he had Maria translating the tablet. He would find Jack and kill Michael. Perhaps Jack wouldn’t be corrupted, he could save the world from Lucifer, but perhaps not. It was possible the good and gentle kid Sam knew was going to be destroyed by his father’s influence.

And there wasn’t a thing Sam could do about it.

xXx

Michael was exploring.

Since he had passed through the rift, he had taken the time to enjoy his new world and to rediscover what a place like this could be like.

He mostly remembered his world from a distance. Before Lucifer rose, he hadn’t stepped foot on earth for millennia. He had watched it from afar, appreciating his Father’s creation and seeing what the humans were making of it.

It wasn’t always a pleasant view, he saw much destruction, but he reminded himself that he wasn’t to interfere, that it wasn’t his place. God had created him and his brethren as protectors. It was only after He left that Michael made them soldiers, and after Lucifer was dead, he made them true warriors.

He hadn’t intended to make the world a wasteland, that had happened because of the wars he’d fought, but he knew when it happened that it was God’s will. He would not have charged Michael with killing Lucifer if he hadn’t wanted a battle. And the demons Lucifer had created had to be stopped, too. They were abominations. What happened to the world as a result was collateral damage. But the humans…

If they hadn’t fought, Michael would not have gone to war with them, too. Hunters had discovered what was happening. They had scoured the battlefields of the Void for fallen angels’ blades, and they had used them, defiled them, to make bullets. The more of Michael’s warriors they killed, the more bullets they could make, and the circle went on until the only way to stop them was to kill them all. Michael had done what he had to do. He would do better this time.

There was a part of him though, the smallest part, that worried he would not have a chance to.  

When he had come through the rift in that place and seen the nephilim, he had sensed his power. It was so much stronger that it had been when he had held him prisoner. Michael had known then that he had potential, but he hadn’t been a threat. Now, though, Michael feared that he was. He needed to deal with him before he gained any more strength, but that was complicated by the fact he was alone. He needed his army behind him again.

He could sense everything about this world, the demons, the angels, the monsters, and the nephilim, and he knew that there were hardly any angels left. There were so few he wondered how Heaven was even still running. They would not make an army, so he had to consider his other options.

There were many demons, perhaps enough to make an army, but Michael would rather be smote himself than go to them for assistance. They were unclean. They were the ones he would need to fight when he found a way to do it without destroying the world again. The monsters were a possibility, but they were spread over the globe and in no way organized. He would have to root them out, one by one, to find them and persuade them to join his cause. He would need to upgrade them to make them a viable threat to demons, too. It would be too slow.

What he needed was another door to his world, one that he could bring the host marching through. He knew how to open a door, though it would take him sacrificing some grace, but that would only bring one angel through at a time. It would take forever, and he would need to wait to replenish his grace with each rift. He needed a new way, and, thanks to Gabriel and his friends, he knew there was one. Gabriel’s people had come through as a group, and there had been even more of them that had gone back. That was the kind of rift he needed. He just needed to find the way to open it.

He knew there was nothing on the angel tablet that told how to do it as he’d had Kevin Tran scour it. What he hadn’t tried was the demon tablet as that was concerned with the abominations. He was willing to bet that it existed in this world, too, though, and that was how Gabriel had found the spell to open the more powerful rift. He needed the tablet, the prophet, and then he could put his plans into motion.

The problem was that he had no idea where the prophet was in this world. He knew the names, and he should have been able to sense the current one wherever it was, but he couldn’t. The prophet was either dead and there had been no one left in the generation to call, or it was somehow incapacitated or protected.  He needed to find a new one, or perhaps an old one was the correct term.

He’d had Kevin Tran in his old world—this world was his now—and he’d been very helpful. Michael needed to speak to him. He didn’t know where he was though. It was only a complication, not a tragedy, as his connection to that particular prophet made it possible for him to sense him. He quickly realized that he wasn’t on earth but in Heaven, though he sensed where his remains were when he tried.

When he realized where he was being led, he hesitated. The prophet was in Lebanon, Kansas, the same place that the nephilim had been the last time he’d seen him. He decided to go on though, reasoning that the nephilim was unlikely to see him, and even if he did, he would be able to flee untraceably

He arrived at a field outside the strange factory unit above what the nephilim had called their ‘bunker’. He stood at the edge of the unmarked plot and reached out for the soul. It was easy to find as it burned bright, but there was no body to transport it into, only ashes and a few bone fragments a foot beneath the surface. He had been poorly cremated, possibly one of the pyre services the hunters in his world had given each other. Michael wondered if the prophet had also been a hunter.

He concentrated on the remains and rebuilt the body from them. It was easy and done in only a minute. Then it was a simple matter of placing the soul inside again and delving into the dirt to reach the recreated life.

Kevin Tran came up sputtering and choking on the dirt in his mouth. He spat repeatedly, and Michael gave him a moment to compose himself before gripping his arm and taking flight.

He set them down in a forest in Montana and released him.

Kevin looked down at his dirt-stained clothing and groaned. “What did you guys do this time?”

“I saved you,” Michael said.

Kevin’s head snapped up. “You’re not Sam or Dean. Who are you?”

“I am the archangel Michael.”

“I thought Michael was in the Cage.”

“Stop talking,” Michael said.

“Tell me who you are and I will.”

Michael sighed. This version of Kevin Tran was bolder and more inquisitive than his version. His had been annoying at times, but he was at least obedient when he saw Michael was on edge.

“I am Michael from a different version of this world,” he said.

“Oh. Okay. Well that’s… kinda crappy news. I don’t always have good experiences with angels. Or ever really. Cas had me by the throat that one time, so I’m going to say no, they’re not good.”

“I am not Castiel,” Michael said. “And as long as you do what I say, you have nothing to fear.”

“Sure,” Kevin said with a roll of his eyes. “That’s always reassuring.”

Michael cut him off before he could ramble on and said, “You obviously know the Winchester woman’s sons, so I assume you have also seen the tablet they have.”

“Which one?” Kevin asked then slapped his forehead. “Wow, that was smart, Kevin.”

“They have the demon _and_ angel?”

Kevin shook his head. “Like I’d tell you. You called Sam and Dean the ‘Winchester woman’s sons’, so you’re obviously not a friend. If you’re not with them, I’m not helping you out.”

Michael was annoyed already and he didn’t want to waste time persuading Kevin to talk when there was an easier way. He gripped the sides of Kevin’s head and delved into his mind.

Kevin _had_ seen the tablets, not just the demon and angel version, but the Leviathan, too. He had been with the Winchester sons, heard news from them after. They had a reputation in this world as warriors. They had fought many wars and won. God had been here! He favored the brothers even. The younger brother had trapped Lucifer and Michael himself in the Cage!

The brothers bore watching. One was still trapped in his old world, but he would be cautious if he came against the remaining one. He saw the tablets, but there was nothing about opening rifts that Kevin had seen.

He pulled back from Kevin’s mind and let the boy pant and catch his breath before speaking. “Thank you for that. I know better now.”

“That’s probably not good for me, is it?” Kevin asked.

“That depends. Where are the tablets now?”

“I’m guessing Sam and Dean have them. I’d advise you against going after them. I saw the slideshow in my head while you were rooting around in there, and I know you saw that they’re tougher than you probably had in your world.”

Michael pressed his lips into a thin line. There were tough, even though they were only human, and he knew their family was now supported by the nephilim. He didn’t want to deal with any of them until he was ready.

He had seen enough from the prophet and he considered killing him, but a more useful idea occurred to him. The prophet could not help him yet, but he had a connection to the Winchesters that Michael could exploit. He just needed the right words to distract and instruct.

“I came from my world in a hurry,” he said. “I was forced to leave two enemies alive, loose ends if you like. I want to go back and deal with them, and I want to stay there. I see now that this place is protected by God, and I have no desire to see Him again. I need a rift.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Sure, I’ll help with that.”

“You will,” Michael said, lowering his voice and making it compelling. “You will go to the Winchesters. You will tell them that I only want to go home. You will examine the demon tablet and find the spell for me. You will come to me when I call. You will forget I told you this. You will do nothing to help them, only me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Kevin said, his voice low and dazed.

Michael had never tried implanting a command into a mind before, though he had been able to implant visions to make it possible for him to persuade Kevin to work with him. He had shown him his mother being killed if Kevin refused, and the prophet had soon become cooperative. The fact that they had killed his mother didn’t matter until Kevin overheard two angels discussing it later and he’d been difficult for a few weeks after. Michael soon taught him the error of his ways with some well-placed motivation.

He thought from the prophet’s response that he had taken the command though, and he felt confident as he raised his voice to its usual, uncompelling level, and said, “I can see you’re going to be no good to me. I can’t kill you without risking angering God and bringing Him down on me. I will let you go.”

“Sure, thanks,” Kevin said idly, still under the spell of the spell, starting to walk away. 

Michael smiled at his retreating back and spread his wings. It hadn’t been the best outcome, the prophet hadn’t known what he needed, but he would find out.

Soon, Michael would have his army.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean and Charlie were working side by side on laptops in the map room, each devoted to their own search. People were coming and going around them, but Dean was trying to block them out and concentrate on what he needed to do.

He was having no success. He was scouring through page after page of search results for dreamwalkers, but there was nothing hopeful. They all seemed to be shady psychics that were trying to add to their air of mystique. He thought that he would know the right person when he found them, as they wouldn’t be shouting about their gift, they would respect it. 

Charlie was having no more luck with finding Michael. There were no more mysterious deaths than usual, no disappearances or attacks that might be attributed to him. The world was its usual dark self. It was possible that he was hiding somewhere among the signs of the supernatural that were always there, but other than tracking every hunt in the country, there was nothing they could do. And that was if he was still in America even. They had no way of knowing.

There was the sound of someone hammering on the bunker door, and Mary called, “I got it,” before walking up the flight of stairs.

Dean thought it was probably one of Bobby’s people. They occasionally came by to see him and Charlie, to replenish funds from Ketch for their rooms, or to just check in. Charlie explained that they had all lived in such close quarters for so long that it was hard for them to be apart for too long. Dean mostly ignored the visitors when they came, as they had nothing useful to offer him and he was busy with his own problems.

He heard the door creak open and then Mary’s voice. “Hello?”

“Uh, hi. I’m looking for Sam and Dean.”

Dean lurched to his feet and ran to the foot of the stairs to see Kevin Tran step around Mary and start down the stairs.

“Hey, Dean,” he said cheerfully.

Dean was in shock. The last time he’d seen Kevin was when Chuck had been sending him to Heaven, and before that he’d been a ghost. He didn’t look like a ghost now. He definitely seemed alive. He was wearing an oversized Montana State sweatshirt and jeans that were too long for him. He had an air of unkemptness about him and he looked tired but happy.

He got to the bottom of the stairs and held up his arms. When Dean stood unmoving, he said, “Okay then. No hug. Got it. Probably better. We’ve got a problem.”

“Are you alive?” Dean asked.

Kevin punched his shoulder. “Do I feel real?”

“Yes.”

Kevin raised an eyebrow. “What? No joke about how that was pathetic or how I’ve been skipping my Wheaties? You really did change without me. Which brings me to my question: what the hell have you guys been doing without me?” He shook his head at Dean’s look of dumb wonder and said, “Can I get a beer? I’ve been sweating on a bus for the last day and a half, and I slept in a depot in Rapid City. That was _not_ a nice place to sleep. I thought I was done with the life on the road after I _finally_ got to Heaven, but I guess I inherited some Winchester luck while I was here with you guys.”

“I’ll get you a beer,” Jack said, hurrying from the room with a concerned glance at Dean who still looked a bit shocked.

“Thanks,” Kevin said, looking around at the people that had gathered. “You’ve made friends. Going to introduce me?”

Dean just stared at him, unable to find words. Kevin was back, he was alive, and he didn’t know about Sam or the world’s new nightmare.

“Guess not,” Kevin said. “I’m Kevin Tran. Prophet of the Lord.”

“Kevin?” Castiel’s voice was shocked as he appeared from the library.

“Hey, Castiel,” Kevin said brightly. “Dean seems a little overwhelmed by my miraculous return. Are you going to do the introduction rounds?”

Looking confused, Castiel came into the room and gestured. “Kevin, this is Mary Winchester and Bobby Singer.”

Kevin frowned. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised, since _I’m_ here, but aren’t you two supposed to be dead?”

“Mary was resurrected, apparently like you, and Bobby is from another world,” Castiel said.

“Oh! Like Michael,” Kevin said. “That makes sense.”

Dean started and his heart beat faster. “You’ve seen Michael?”

“Yeah, he’s the one that brought me back,” Kevin said.

“Where?” Dean asked intensely.

“Here, or just outside where you buried what was left of me. We took off for Montana pretty quick though.”

Dean’s eyes found Bobby’s, and the older man nodded. “On it.” He rushed to the laptop and began tapping the keys.

“He’s not there now,” Kevin said. “He took off after giving me the rundown. I take it you’re looking for him.”

Dean sighed and raked a hand over his face. “Yeah, we are.”

“Figures,” Kevin said. “Oh, thanks,” he added as Jack came back and handed him a bottle of beer. He twisted off the cap, took a long drink, and said, “Shall we sit?”

He walked through the room to the library and Dean followed automatically, taking a seat opposite him. The others joined them, and Charlie gave Kevin a small wave.

“Charlie Bradbury. Also from a different world.”

Jack pulled out the seat beside him. “I’m Jack.”

“Kevin. Prophet.”

“I heard,” Jack said. “I have good hearing.”

Kevin nodded knowingly. “You’re an angel, too.”

“I’m a nephilim,” Jack said. “Lucifer is my father.”

Kevin leaned away slightly, Dean thought unconsciously.

“Jack is good,” Castiel said. “He is nothing like his father.”

Jack looked like he wanted to say something, but thankfully for Dean, who was still dealing with his residual anger toward the kid, he snapped his mouth shut and looked away.

“Ketch and Rowena, a man of letters and a witch, live here now, too,” Castiel said. “But they’re, um, occupied.”

Dean guessed that their flirtatious glances had moved onto something more physical now, and he pushed away the thought. They could do what they liked. His priority was Sam and Michael.

“Great,” Kevin said brightly. “Where’s Sam?”

Tension fell over the room and Dean looked away from Kevin. He knew he needed to be told what had happened, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

“Sam is dead, Kevin,” Castiel said gently.

Kevin looked aghast. “What? No!”

“He’s trapped,” Jack corrected and Castiel scowled at him.

“What happened?” Kevin asked.

“We were in the other world, the one Bobby and Charlie came from,” Castiel said. “We call it apocalypse world. We were all traveling back through a rift, and Sam didn’t come through. Michael came instead. We believe Michael killed him.”

Kevin laughed, and Dean’s stomach twisted with anger. Then Kevin spoke, and Dean’s mouth dropped open.

“He’s not dead guys. He was there with someone else, right?”

“Lucifer,” Jack supplied.

“Then he’s not dead,” Kevin said with a grin. “Michael told me he left a couple enemies there alive, loose ends, because he was in a hurry.”

There were gasps and sounds of pleasure from Jack and Mary, but Dean felt as though an iron fist was clutching his heart. He should be happy to know Sam had been alive when Michael came through, but he couldn’t be.

Mary reached across the table and squeezed Dean’s hand. “He could be alive! Lucifer might not have killed him.”

She sounded so happy that it incensed Dean. “That’s even worse,” he said in a carefully measured voice, controlling his anger. “If Lucifer didn’t kill him, he’s torturing him. I told you what he did.”

“But we can get him back,” she said.

Dean’s voice rose to a shout. “When? We can’t find a dreamwalker. We can’t find Michael. We have no way of getting to him, and every minute he spends there with Lucifer is pain and torture.”

“It might not be,” Jack said earnestly.

Dean jumped to his feet and picked up the lamp from the table. For a moment he hesitated on the point of throwing it at Jack, but he threw it at the wall instead. The glass shade broke and the pieces glittered on the floor.

He’d needed Sam to be dead. That had been almost unbearable for him, but it was better for Sam and that made it possible for him to go on. Kevin had ripped that comfort from him. Even if Lucifer had killed him, it would not have been the swift and merciful death Michael would have given him before coming through the rift. Sam had been tortured to death by Lucifer, or he was still alive and suffering in a way no one but Dean and Castiel could understand.

“Why don’t you understand?” Dean bellowed at Jack. “He’s better off dead than with your father! Lucifer won’t change. He hurt Sam once and he will do it again. I thought you cared about Sam!”

“I do,” Jack said, his own voice rising in defiant passion. “Sam is my family, too. But Lucifer was changing when he was with me. He’s done awful things, I know, but no one is ever irrevocably evil. Sam told me that himself. There is always a chance for him to do better.”

Dean shook his head and Castiel laid a hand on his arm. He turned to look at him, imploring him with his eyes. “What do you think?”

“Sam is dead,” Castiel said firmly.

“Do you really believe that or are you saying it because it’s what I need to hear?” Dean asked.

“It’s what I believe,” Castiel said.

“Because you have to?” Dean guessed.

Castiel bowed his head. “Yes.”

Dean breathed out a harsh breath. It was impossible. He had to hope Sam was dead, and that went against everything in him. His job was to keep Sam safe.

“We have to get him back,” Mary said gently. “We have to find a way.”

Kevin cleared his throat. “Michael wants to go back, too,” he said. “It sounded like he was scared of meeting God again, and he rooted through my mind and saw that He came here that time. He told me he wanted me to find a way to make a rift. I’m supposed to look at the demon tablet or find out from you. He tried to do some kind of compulsion thing—I didn’t know angels could to that—and he told me what to do with his voice was all weird. I’m pretty sure he thinks it worked. He said he will find me when it’s time. Maybe if we both want the same thing…”

“Are you suggesting we work with him?” Castiel asked.

Kevin raised his hands. “Don’t pin me by the throat again, but why not?”

“Because he _is_ evil,” Jack said. “We call that world apocalypse world because that was what happened there. He destroyed it. He killed almost everyone, and the people that were left were living a new kind of nightmare. We cannot work with him.”

Mary held up a hand to him. “We need his grace to open the rift though.”

“You’re not serious!” Jack said, sounding stunned. 

“No, I don’t mean work with him, I mean pretend we will. When he comes for Kevin, we can trap him somehow. You can take his grace and then kill him. We will solve two problems at once. He will be dealt with and we…” She drew a shuddering breath. “We can get Sam back.”

Dean nodded, calming slightly now. He’d been dealt the worst news, but there was a little hope, too. They might not need to find Michael. He might come to them, and then they could get to Sam. Dean prayed it would be his body they would bring back—and he felt sickened for even thinking it—but if not, if the worst had happened, they could save Sam.

“We keep going like we were,” he said. “If we can find Michael ourselves, we will, but if we can’t, we’ll use him when he comes to us. Jack, you need to work on your powers. Cas can help you. You have to be on top of your game when it’s time. You’re going up against two archangels.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “You think I will kill my father?”

“Yes,” Dean said harshly.

“Jack,” Mary said gently, “if Lucifer has killed Sam, will you kill him?”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Jack protested.

“Will you?” Mary pressed.

“If he killed Sam, then yes, of course I will.”

“And if Dean is right, if Sam has been… tortured?”

“You know I will,” Jack said.

“Work on it with Cas then,” Dean said. “Because you are going to need to kill two archangels. I know your _father,_ and I know what he’s capable of. He won’t have left Sam alone.”

“He would have killed him,” Castiel said.

Dean knew Castiel was trying to convince himself as much as Dean now, but he still took strength from the words. “Yes,” he said harshly. “He would.”

And he would be killed himself for it.

xXx

When he had been in the Cage, there had come a point at which Sam realized he wouldn’t last much longer. He knew he was going to end up as empty as Adam had been, and he’d fought against it with everything he’d had left. He could only hang on so long though, and the end had been drawing near when he had been plucked out of Lucifer’s grip and carried back to his body and his brother.

Sam was feeling that way again now, and it was only the thin hope that his family could still be alive that kept him going when he wanted to give up.

It was hard though. Lucifer was chipping away at him with each slice of the blade, each snap of a bone, with each cruel word and threat whispered in his ear, with each death. It crept closer all the time. All Sam could do was fight back in the only was he had, by refusing to tell Lucifer what he knew.

Maria was working on the tablet for hours at a time, but she wasn’t finding what Lucifer needed, and that meant pain for Sam. He didn’t blame her for helping Lucifer. She wanted to go to the paradise Lucifer had promised her almost as much as he did himself. Sam had only had a glimpse of what it was like in this world for the survivors, and he could understand why anyone would fight with all they had to leave. She’d said everyone in her settlement had been killed by the angels when they’d come for her, so there was nothing for her to go back to. She didn’t know the threat Lucifer posed to that world. If Michael wasn’t enough to destroy the world, Lucifer would add his own efforts, too. And that was if they didn’t have their foretold battle which—if Zachariah had been telling the truth—would destroy a swath of the world.

These were the thoughts that chased around Sam’s mind around at all hours. The fate of the world, the fate of his family, and his powerlessness to do anything about it. It was tempting in the worst of those moments to let go, to remove himself from the world and to break.

Sometimes he was scared he would.

Sometimes he was scared he wouldn’t.

He had been in the Empty again, searching for Dean with Crowley’s snarky company, but the Entity had come and now he was reeling in the moments he had when the breath rushed back into him and he felt the momentary relief of the absence of pain in his newly healed body. It wouldn’t last, he knew, but he took what he could while he could.

“Here he is,” Lucifer crowed. “Nice to see you again, Sam.”

Sam looked away from him and found Maria’s eyes as she watched him surreptitiously from her place at the table. She was neatly placing her pen on the pad of paper beside the tablet, and Sam knew it was over for another day. He would be taken to his cage, and there he would rest as much as was possible until the new day started.

Lucifer unbuckled the restraints holding Sam in place and dragged him up by an arm from his reclined position. It always took a moment for his wasted leg muscles to support him, but Lucifer gave him no time to get accustomed to being upright. He grabbed a handful of hair and dragged him out of the room and along the halls to the dungeon. Sam stumbled along behind him trying to stay on his feet.

“How was your little trip, Sam?” he asked when they reached the cage and Sam was carefully climbing inside. “Did you enjoy your time with Crowley?”

Though he was asking, Sam knew his voice was still stolen from the now familiar tightness in his throat. Lucifer was just screwing with him again. It shouldn’t bother Sam after so long and compared to the other things he did to him, but it did. He couldn’t control his reaction anymore. He had so little reserves left.

“No?” Lucifer asked. “Maybe you’re getting tired of him. I’ll not leave you there again so long next time. Perhaps it would be more effective to bring you back faster and then do it all over again.”

As much as Sam felt relief when he was in the Empty, he hated the way it felt to die. There was no way to get used to it. It was terrifying each time, as each time his subconscious whispered to him that the Entity was finished being gentle now, that it had a new way to punish him for keeping it awake.

Lucifer closed the cage and slid across the bolt. “I’ve got things to do tonight, so I thought I’d do you a kindness,” he said. “You can get some shuteye while I do what needs to be done. Comfy?”

Sam felt the restriction of his throat disappear but he didn’t speak. He just narrowed his eyes in response.

“Good,” Lucifer said, reaching through the bars and touching Sam’s temple. Sam was asleep before he even fell back onto the spikes.

Since his time with Lucifer, Sam’s dreams had been fragmented and vague. He saw shapes and heard voices, but there was nothing clear. He had yearned for them to clear, to show him the people he loved, to give him some comfort, but they had remained stubbornly vague.

That now changed.

He was standing in the library near the spot where the rack usually lay, but it was gone. The puddle of dark and dry blood beneath it was gone, too. The floor was spotless.

Sam turned around and took in the rest of the room, his breath catching in his throat at what he saw. Rowena was sitting at the table, staring in horror at the rift that they had used to open their way in the nightmare world. It was closing.

Sam started towards it, but then it rippled and Ketch appeared, landing in a crouch. Jack followed, then Castiel and Mary. More and more came through, the people they had rescued from the other world, and Mary directed them away to allow space for the others still arriving. Sam watched in awe as they came, his smile wide as the people he loved worked to help the others.

After everything he’d been through, this was heaven to Sam, and he just stared. He wished he could go to them, but he knew he was just a spectator to the scene. He didn’t belong. Dean came though, and Sam’s heart soared. He took a step forward and breathed, “Dean…”

Dean turned back to the rift, which was rapidly shrinking, and Sam knew Dean was waiting for him to come through.

The rift rippled again and Michael appeared.

Sam’s heaven quickly becoming a hell, and he cried out a warning, but it was no good. Michael straightened to his fullest height as the rift behind him closed and he took in the room with his dark eyes.

“Jack!” Dean shouted as Michael thrust out a hand and sent Dean sprawling back to the floor. 

With a look of fury, Jack stepped toward the archangel and raised his hand.

“Get down!” Bobby shouted, pushing Mary behind him.

The people around them dropped, leaving only Castiel, Jack, Mary, Bobby and Ketch on their feet. Dean scrambled up and his eyes flickered from Jack to Michael and back.

Jack stepped toward Michael and began to clench his fist. Sam stared at Michael, willing some sign of what Jack was doing to him to appear, but none did.

Michael walked toward Jack, his blade slipping into his hand. Sam could see Jack was fighting with all he had to affect the archangel, but for all the good it did, he might not have bothered. He drew back his arm, and Castiel raced forward, shouting, “Jack!”

He stopped in front of Jack, his arms spread wide, and Michael smiled as he shoved his arm forward, the blade sinking into Castiel’s chest, making blue-white light burn in his eyes and open mouth. Jack cried out as Michael shoved Castiel from the blade and onto the floor.

“Get out of here, Jack!” Dean shouted, but Jack remained. He reached for Michael as if he could choke the life out of him, and Michael sank the blade into his chest, right over his heart. The room shook as Jack’s whole body blazed with golden light, and the floor fractured. He fell and Dean shouted, “No!”

“Who’s next?” Michael asked.

Bobby started forward, weaponless but filled with fury, and Michael snapped his fingers. Bobby exploded in a spatter of blood that stained Dean’s and Mary’s faces. The people that had sheltered on the floor began to crawl away and Michael laughed. He pointed at them one by one, exploding them into blood that coated the fractured floor, walls, and Sam’s own face, killing Rowena last until only Dean, Mary and Ketch were left. 

Michael dispatched of Ketch with a twist of his hand that snapped his neck and Dean stood in front of his mother with his arms spread. Mary gripped his shoulder and stared at Michael with hatred.

“Who wants to go next” Michael asked

“Me,” Mary said, stepping around Dean’s resisting arms and presenting herself to Michael as a target.

“I hoped so,” Michael said.

He pointed a hand at Mary and she bowed over in agony. Blood spilled from her mouth, and Dean begged for him to stop. Michael’s hand squeezed into a fist and Mary crumpled. Dean caught her and lowered her gently to the floor, cradling her body in his arms.

“Just one left,” Michael said. “Would you like to beg for your life now?”

“Fuck you,” Dean snarled.

Michael scowled and raised his hand. Dean fell back, blood leaking from his mouth and ears. It looked like he was in agony, but he didn’t make a sound until his drew one last bloody breath as Michael’s hand squeezed into a fist.

“Sammy…”

Sam jerked awake, throwing himself against the spikes in front of him. They pierced his stomach but he didn’t even feel the pain or notice the blood trickling from the wounds. His breath was coming hard and his stomach was rolling.

He had more than seen it, he had felt their blood on his face, he had heard the snap of Ketch’s neck. He had been there, experiencing it all with them. He hadn’t dreamed so vividly since the visions he used to have when Azazel was alive.

He felt tears slipping down his cheeks, but he couldn’t wipe them away with his arms pinned at his sides by the narrow bars.

He had _seen_ them die. They were all gone, Jack, too, and Michael was free to destroy that world. It had been more than a dream, it was like a vision of what had happened to them. 

Sam sobbed and then heard a dry laugh. He blinked to clear his eyes and looked up, becoming aware that he wasn’t alone for the first time. Mary and Dean were standing in front of him.

“How,” he breathed, his heart swelling with emotion at the sight of them.

“Michael,” Dean said. “You were too slow and he was too fast. He killed us all.”

He shook his head jerkily. “No, you can’t be here.”

“This is the veil, Sam,” Mary said. “It encompasses all worlds, not just ours. We came to find you. We need to tell you something.”

“She needs to tell you something,” Dean said. “I don’t think there’s any point.”

“What?” Sam asked.

“You need to find a way back to our world,” Mary said. “We’re all gone, but Michael is there. He’s going to destroy the world unless you stop him.”

“How do I stop him?” Sam said desperately. “He killed Jack!”

“Yes,” a voice said behind him

Sam tried to turn in the cage to see the speaker, scraping his cheek on a spike in the process, but he couldn’t get a clear view until Jack walked around to face him, Castiel at his side. Jack looked sad as his eyes took in Sam in his cage, but Castiel’s expression was stony.

“You can’t be here,” Sam said.

“And yet here we are,” Castiel said.

“But you can’t be in the Veil,” Sam said, his heart lightening. This couldn’t be real as Jack and Castiel would have the Empty’s peace with death.

“We can be with Michael in control now,” Jack said sadly. “I was half human, it wasn’t hard for him to keep me in the Veil. He had to work for Cas though.”

“He bound me to the earth,” Castiel said accusingly. “I have to, we all do, stay here, watching, while he destroys the world.”

“You have to stop him, Sam,” Jack said desperately. “Give Lucifer the spell. Let him destroy Michael.”

“Yeah, that’ll work,” Dean said with a roll of his eyes. “If this is working, it’s got to be Sam taking care of it. He’s got to stop Michael and Lucifer together.”

“I can’t!” Sam said. “I’m not strong enough.”

Dean sneered. “I told you, Mom. He can’t do it. He’s a coward.”

“Sam, please,” Mary said, reaching for him.

“You’re not real,” Sam said, shaking his head. “You can’t be.”

Dean walked toward the cage and shoved his hand though the bars, pressing it against Sam’s wounded stomach. “Does that feel real?”

The pain burned and Sam gasped.

“I thought so,” Dean said. “We’re your ghosts now, Sam, all of us. We’re staying until you stop being so damn selfish and actually do something to help. Give Lucifer the spell and go save the world.”

But Sam couldn’t. He had no chance against Michael. He was trapped. He couldn’t let Lucifer through. The devil was no match for Michael, but he was a match for the world. Together they would destroy everything even more completely than Michael had done here.

Sam felt like he was drowning. No matter what he did, he was damned. He would have to watch Maria find the spell eventually and break through. He would be left behind to be followed by the ghosts of the people he loved until he lost his mind. There was only one option left open to him now.

“Please, Sam,” Mary begged. “You have to.”

Sam knew what she meant, but he allowed himself to be weak and pretend she meant he had to do what he could for himself. The world was past saving, Lucifer was going to find a way back, and Sam would be left in this world with his ghosts. He could only be selfish now if he was going to have any peace at all.

He look from his mother to his brother and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“No!” Mary cried, but Sam barely heard her.

He closed his eyes and let go. His mind washed free of the fear and the pain was gone.

He broke at last. 


	10. Chapter 10

Lucifer was a little later than usual getting Sam out of his cage, as he’d been busy visiting the troops during the night. Of course, he’d been later leaving as well, as he’d needed to have his time with Sam first, implanting the visions and enjoying the one-sided conversation that followed as Sam spoke to his ‘ghosts’.

It had been a masterstroke of manipulation to do it, he knew, and he’d really enjoyed himself. For all he knew, what he’d shown Sam might have happened in some form. Jack wouldn’t have been killed, but the others would have been easy prey for Michael. He wasn’t technically lying when he said Sam’s family was dead, he just wasn’t positive.

He strode into the dungeon and called, “Rise and shine, Sam.”

He expected Sam to start awake, but his eyes were already open, though devoid of awareness. Lucifer had heard there were some humans that were even more odd than the others, ones that actually slept with their eyes open, but he’d never seen evidence that Sam was one of them. He didn’t move either, not even when Lucifer swung the cage, making the spikes cut into him.  

“Whatever game you’re playing, it’s not going to work, Sam,” he said. “Come on. Give it up.”

Sam didn’t move or speak. He just blinked slowly.

Lucifer sighed drew his blade. He jabbed it into Sam’s shoulder, deep enough that he scraped bone, but Sam didn’t react. The blood poured from the wound, but that was the only thing that changed. Sam remained expressionless.

“You’re kidding me!” Lucifer said incredulously. “You’ve broken already!”

He had known Sam’s soul was damaged from the last time he’d had hold of him, but he hadn’t expected him to give up so easily. He’d thought he was made of stronger stuff than Michael’s vessel who had broken laughably easily.

He rolled up his sleeve and put his arm through the cage. He pressed his fingers to Sam’s sternum and plunged inside. He reached for the soul and gripped it in his hand. It was flayed and raw, infinitely more damaged than Lucifer had seen it last. It seemed impossible it could function at all, but function it did. It was still warm and pulsing against Lucifer’s hand.

He pulled his arm back and poked Sam’s cheek. “It’s not that, so what exactly have you done to yourself, Sam?”

He gripped the sides of Sam’s head and delved into his mind, thinking that perhaps he would be able to retrieve the spell himself with Sam checked out. He was wrong. There were no doors to force open, no barriers to him. All that he could see was Dean Winchester’s cruel face as he said, “We’re your ghosts now, Sam.” There was nothing else at all.

Lucifer stepped back and stared at Sam with loathing. “I can’t believe you’ve done this to me!” he said. “Do you realize how selfish this is? All I wanted was one little spell. Was that really too much to ask for? Selfish!”

He didn’t blame himself for what had happened. It was Sam’s weakness that had brought them to this place. He should have been stronger, not let one little vision of his family destroy what Lucifer valued—Sam’s potential.

He yanked open the door of the cage and Sam spilled out onto the floor.

“Up!” he snapped, gripping Sam’s shoulder and yanking him to his feet. “You’re coming with me.”

Sam didn’t resist as Lucifer tugged him out of the room and down the hall to the library. He seemed to know where he was going, even though he wasn’t aware of anything else. He walked right up to the rack and waited. Maria watched them curiously from her place at the table.

There was no need to put him on the rack, Lucifer knew, but he liked the sight, so he pushed Sam back and strapped him in. He stepped back and looked at Maria.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked tremulously.

“What makes you think there’s something wrong?” Lucifer asked.

“He’s… I don’t know, different. It’s like he’s not here.”

Lucifer cursed her shrewdness. “He’s having a bad day, but don’t let appearances deceive you. He can still feel this!” He put his blade to the place he’d already wounded him and pushed it in, scraping the metal against the bone with a satisfying grating sound.  

Maria looked terrified and quickly looked away.

“Back to work,” Lucifer said. “I need that spell _today_.”

He pulled out the chair opposite her at the table and slammed into it, his temper rising. If Sam wasn’t going to react to pain, would she be as motivated to work? He could start hurting her, but that might slow her down. He needed her focused on her work, not her various wounds and fear. He drummed his fingers on the table. His situation had just become more complicated.

He looked at Sam on the rack, staring blankly into space. He considered going back and making an early start with his torture, but he didn’t think it would make a difference to him. It was Sam’s reactions, fought down as they were, that he’d enjoyed.

Just then, when he was trying to think of new ways to speed up the process, Maria gasped.

He sat bolt upright and fixed his eyes on her. “What have you found?”

“I’m not sure,” she said warily.

“Be sure! Talk!” Lucifer commanded.

“I’ve found the place with the mention of rifts,” she said, pausing to peruse the tablet for a few more moents. “It says it’s a gateway between worlds.”

“Yes, yes,” Lucifer said excitedly.

“It says you need archangel grace.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know. What else?”

She frowned down at the tablet and Lucifer struggled to stay silent as she focused. “It’s harder to read than any other part, but it says you need something called the Seal of Solomon.”

Lucifer felt a thrill of excitement. “Bart!” he shouted. “Get in here!”

Bartholomew came in followed by a male angel Lucifer had spoken to but didn’t know the name of. “Yes, Lucifer?”

“The Seal of Solomon. What do you know about it?”

“It was a meteorite crystal,” Bartholomew said. “I understand it was fashioned into a jewel.”

Lucifer remembered the jewel on the table when Rowena had been casting the spell. It sounded like Maria was finally getting somewhere useful.

“Where is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Bartholomew said. “I have never seen it.”

Lucifer scowled. “That’s just great. My keg of knowledge chooses to check out today when he could _really_ be useful.”

The angel with Bartholomew eyed Sam. “Have you tried searching his mind manually?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Of course I have. I’ve tried everything. What’s your name?”

“Ion, sir.”

“Well, Ion, don’t speak until you have something useful to say.”

Ion cleared his throat awkwardly. “I may have something useful.”

Lucifer sighed. “Go on then.”

“Before the war I served in Heaven under an angel called Naomi. She was an expert at extracting information.”

“She was a torturer?” Lucifer said dismissively. “I’m better. If Sam was feeling a little more forthcoming, he’d tell you the same.”

“She was not technically a torturer. Her job was to debrief angels after missions and to change and replace memories when ordered by Michael. If there is a way to extract the information from your prisoner, she can find it.”

Lucifer brightened. “Where is this Naomi?”

“In the Southern Sector.”

“Go,” Lucifer said. “Find her. Bring her to me. Tell her I need something from her.”

Ion rushed out of the room and Lucifer breathed out a sigh of relief. It offended him that he needed a lesser angel’s assistance to get what he needed from Sam, but if it worked… well, nothing else would matter. She might even be able to get the complete spell.

He stood and pointed at the Maria. “Keep reading,” he said. “I want that spell, and I don’t care how I get it.

Maria nodded jerkily and fixed her attention on the tablet again.

Lucifer walked to the rack and leaned close to Sam’s expressionless face. “One way or another, you’re going to be talking soon, Sam. You’re giving me my way home, and I am going to take my angels with me. You will stay here forever, and I will enjoy that world enough for us both.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Me and my son are going to really enjoy ourselves there. It will be a better party than even Michael could achieve.”

He patted Sam’s lax cheek and straightened. Hopefully Naomi would be there soon, and he would get his answers.

xXx

The anger that Dean had been feeling so potently had changed now. He still felt angry a lot of the time, but the predominant emotion was devastation, and it made him feel raw and exposed.

There were two options: Sam was dead, which made Dean feel like he was being crushed by his grief, or he was alive, and that made Dean feel like he was being burned at the stake.

There was no happy ending possible for them, no matter what Jack believed. They could trap Michael when he came for Kevin or catch him themselves, they could find a dreamwalker, but nothing could make this nightmare right. Sam was the one that suffered with either option. The only thing they didn’t know was how long he had suffered for.

It was hard to conceal the depth of how he felt, and he’d taken to staying up late into the night while the bunker was quieter—when he usually only had Castiel’s company on the rare occasions he didn’t give Dean his space—and catching scant hours of sleep in the morning when other people there started their days. It minimized the time he had to be with them which helped a little as it was too damn painful to be around them.

He walked from his bedroom through to the kitchen so he could eat and get some coffee before joining the others in their various pursuits. Castiel would be with Jack, trying to build up Jack’s control, Charlie would be searching for signs of Michael with Bobby’s assistance, and Mary would be on the laptop, searching for dreamwalkers in Dean’s stead. It was anyone’s guess where Rowena and Ketch would be. They spent a lot of time with piles of books in the library, talking quietly, and other times they disappeared from the bunker for hours at a time.

Dean reached the kitchen and sighed when he saw his mother at the counter, making a platter of sandwiches.

She turned at the sound and smiled at him. “Hey. Did you get much sleep?”

“I got enough,” Dean said. He thought he would skip the coffee and grab one of Sam’s bottled waters from the fridge. He would come back when the kitchen empty, so he could eat in peace without needing to censor himself quite so much.

He grabbed the handle of the fridge, but Mary laid her hand on the door and stopped him opening it. He looked at her. “What?”

“Talk to me,” she said, and there was a note of pleading in her voice.

Dean moved to the counter and filled a cup with coffee from the pot. “I’ve got things to do,” he said, walking away

“Dean, stop!” She came after him and took his arm. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Blocking me out, all of us. You’re up all night and asleep in the day so you don’t have to be around us. You don’t talk. You don’t do anything but search.”

“What else am I supposed to be doing?” Dean asked.

“You’re supposed to be talking to us…to me. We’re all going through this together. I know I didn’t understand it at first, and that made it harder for you, but I do now. I know what Sam could be going through. I’m not making it harder now, so why do you hate me so much?”

Dean set down his cup and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He didn’t want this conversation, but if his mother was misreading the situation to the point that she thought he hated her, then he needed to do something about it.

He lowered his hands and looked at her, taking in the sheen in her eyes and her lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t hate you, Mom. I love you.”

“Then why are you being like this?”

“Because Sam might have survived, might still be alive, so I feel like I’m on fire. I want to believe he’s at peace, but I can’t be sure anymore. It’s all I can think about, and when I see you, or Cas and Jack, I see the person that’s supposed to be here with us but isn’t. That’s why I can’t talk, because it hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“You’ve done nothing wrong. None of us have except maybe me. I keep thinking over what happened that day. I let Sam tell me to go through and I listened. If I’d made him go through first, I would have been the one trapped there.”

“Sam would never have wanted that.”

Dean shrugged. “He didn’t want to be left there either. Neither of us got what we wanted.”

Mary came forward and put her arms around him. Dean stiffened at first, not wanting the contact and not understanding why she didn’t understand that after what he’d said. Then she drew a shaky breath, and Dean realized this wasn’t about what he wanted or needed. It was about her. He wasn’t the only one in pain, and if it helped her to reach for his comfort, he had to give it.

He returned the embrace and let himself relax. She sensed it and held him tighter, and Dean let her, only breathing freely again when she released him and patted his cheek.

“Thank you for helping me to understand,” she said.

Dean forced a small smile for her. “Thank you for trying.”

He picked up his coffee again and took one of Sam’s Powerbars from the box then walked out of the kitchen with Mary at his side.

When they approached the war room, Dean heard excited voices. He hurried his pace and burst into the room. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“I found something,” Charlie said. “Maybe. There have been some deaths in Massachusetts, what looks like angel kills, in a place called Needham.”

Dean and Castiel exchanged a glance. “That’s Crowley’s old court,” Castiel said.

“You had a Crowley, too?” Bobby asked. “Limey guy with an overinflated ego?”

Castiel nodded. “That’s him. He became our King of Hell.”

Bobby snorted. “He became cannon fodder for Azazel in our world.”

“He came through for us in the end,” Castiel said.

“Can we get back to the point,” Dean said curtly. “They’re angel kills?”

“I can’t be sure as they haven’t got crime scene photos on their database yet, but I think so. It talks about internal burns and eyes being gone.”

It definitely sounded like an angel, Dean thought. And since all of their angels were currently keeping the lights on in Heaven, that left one suspect.

“We have to go,” he said. “He might be there still.”

His heart began to race as the full implications of what was happening settled over him. This could be their way to get to Sam. This could be what ended the torment he was living with. If they could get to that place, he would know the truth about what happened to his brother.

“I’m coming,” Mary said, and Bobby nodded.

Dean held up his hands. “We don’t need anyone but me, Cas, and Jack. There’s no point risking more lives than we have to.”

“I’m coming,” Bobby said roughly. “He’s been my enemy a lot longer than he’s been yours. It’s my fight. I need to be there.”

“Me, too,” Mary said. “And we should take Rowena. If we catch Michael and get his grace, we can open the rift there and then. Sam shouldn’t have to spend one more minute in that place than he has to.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. Mom, go find Jack and Rowena. I’ll load up the car with everything we’ve got. There are enough angel blades for us all. They’ll be no good against Michael, but if there are still demons hanging around there, we‘ll need them. And holy oil. We might be able to trap him with that.”

Mary darted from the room and Dean went to the weapon’s chest in the library that held everything they couldn’t fit in the trunk. Castiel came with him and took out a jug of holy oil.

“This is really happening,” Dean said, reassuring himself.

“It is,” Castiel said fervently. “If he’s there still, we’ll find him.”

“And get to that world,” Dean said. “Either way, we’ll know.”

That was what he needed. He was in hell not knowing, and at the end of this journey Michael could be waiting for him. He would get his answers at last. He would finally know what happened to his brother.


	11. Chapter 11

Lucifer was surprised by Naomi when she came as she wasn’t what he’d expected at all.

She arrived with Bartholomew, and though he had a certain status as Lucifer’s personal assistant, she held herself away from him as if distancing herself. There was also the way she looked. She wore fatigues just like the other angels, but she didn’t look like a soldier in them. She looked more like a politician dropped in a warzone for campaign propaganda. She walked tall, her hair in a smooth bun, and her face was stony. In her hands was a large black bag. Lucifer was intrigued.

“Lucifer, this is Naomi,” Bartholomew said when they reached him.

“Nice to meet you, Naomi,” Lucifer said, and received a curt nod in return. He pointed to the woman at the table, scratching notes on a piece of paper and determinedly not looking up. “This is Maria, and this is Sam.” He waved a hand at Sam where he reclined on the rack.

She looked Sam up and down, taking in the empty eyes and lack of expression. “He’s why I’m here?”

“He is. Before Sam checked out, he was resisting my attempts to get some information from him. He has a way back to my world that I need. I searched his mind, but he was able to form some sort of defense against me. I don’t honestly know how he managed to do it. I tried again after he broke, but I can find nothing there at all. It’s like he’s wiped it clean.”

“I will find it,” she said. “Nothing is ever truly lost. It’s just misfiled.”

“I _am_ an archangel,” Lucifer reminded her. “I do know what I’m doing.”

She looked him in the eye. “I’m sure you do. I’m better.”

Lucifer shrugged. It didn’t really matter what she thought of herself as long as she succeeded.

“Okay then,” he said. “Get to work.”

“I can’t do it with him on that,” she said. “I need better access. The restraints are good though.”

“In the south corridor there is a medical bay with a cot,” Bartholomew said. “I can create restraints there.”

Lucifer waved a hand at him. “Good. Go do that. Take him with you.”

Bartholomew unbuckled the restraints that held Sam to the rack and dragged him out of the room.

Naomi looked around the library. “This is an interesting place. To think that something so human exists in our world still is remarkable.”

“It wasn’t accessed until I came along,” Lucifer said. “I like it.”

“I prefer Heaven,” she said. “It’s cleaner. I always worked better in a simpler environment.”

“Ion said you accessed angels’ minds and were able to wipe memories.”

“I was.”

“Why though?” Lucifer asked.

“Because Michael ordered me to,” she said simply.

“But why would he want you to?”

“I never asked. I was just happy to obey.”

Lucifer examined her smooth face for a tell. “You enjoyed it though, their pain.”

She smiled cruelly. “Very much.”

Lucifer sensed something of a kindred spirit in her. He didn’t obey orders, but he did enjoy experimenting and expressing himself through someone else’s pain. Sam was the best example of that. He was a work of art, enhanced by the fact it was Lucifer’s vision that had broken him. 

He thought perhaps Naomi would make a good second-in-command on the other side. That is, if she’d still follow him when they were there. That was a concern Lucifer had done his best to ignore. They would probably discover Michael was still alive, and some may prefer to serve their old commander rather than be under his new, better, leadership.

He hoped he would keep some of them, though he supposed it didn’t really matter. He would have Jack. Together they would kill Michael and then the angels would have no choice but to follow him.

Jack might be problematic at first, when he heard Sam hadn’t made it, but he would come around. Lucifer would create a story for him. He would tell of how he had tried to defend Sam from Michael, but how he had been destroyed to such a degree that even Lucifer couldn’t bring him back. Jack would be upset, but he’d believe Lucifer. They’d really been connecting before he’d gone through that rift. He would believe his dad. For Lucifer’s own son, he wasn’t the shrewdest.

“They should be ready,” Lucifer said. “Let’s get started.”

He led her along the halls until he came to an open door and the sounds of rattling metal. Lucifer saw that Bartholomew had attached cot-sides to a bed and had tied Sam’s wrists to the metal with rolls of bandage. It wasn’t as painful a setup as Lucifer would have liked, but it seemed Sam was without the ability to feel anyway.

Naomi set down her bag on a rolling trolley and opened it, taking out a shining metal box with a small drill attached by a cord.

“You’re drilling into his brain?” Lucifer asked. “Not that I mind, you can do what you like, but I’m curious.”

“This is how I accessed the angels’ minds,” she said. “If I cannot retrieve the information by other means, I will use this. It’s my backup. I’m confident I won’t need it.”

Lucifer shrugged. She was apparently the expert.

She positioned herself beside Sam and pressed her hands to his head. “Stay back and be quiet,” she commanded. “I like to appreciate what I’m doing.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure he liked being told what to do, no matter how intriguing she was. But then she started, and Lucifer’s annoyance became awe. Sam was screaming. There was no sound as Lucifer had stolen his voice, but his pain was evident in his bulging eyes and wide mouth, the cords standing out on his neck. Lucifer hadn’t been able to make him react at all, but this was beautiful.

“Why isn’t he making a sound?” she asked.

“I took his voice,” Lucifer said. “Force of habit. He’s not been speaking lately.”

“Give it back. I’d like to hear him.”

Lucifer almost refused, he didn’t want Naomi to think she could make a habit of giving him orders, but he wanted to hear it, too. He waved a hand and Sam’s silence became ear-pulsing screams of pain.

“How are you managing that?” Lucifer called over the noise. “I couldn’t get anything from him.”

“I’ve not even started yet,” she said loudly. “This is just softening him up. I’m finding his worst memories. There are many of them. He’s seen a lot of pain and death in his life. What exactly are you looking for from him? Bartholomew said something about the Seal of Solomon.”

“There’s a way to create a door between worlds,” Lucifer said. “It involves the Seal. I want to know the whole spell, where the Seal and other ingredients are, and how to do it.”

Naomi nodded and concentrated again. For a moment Sam just screamed, and then Naomi pulled back and sighed as he panted. “It’s in there, but I can’t reach it,” she said. “I’m going to have to step it up.”

“The drill?” Lucifer asked hopefully.

“Yes.” She flipped on the machine and the buzz of the drill filled the room. She brought it to the corner of Sam’s right eye and said. “This is going to hurt…”

Lucifer gave a little shiver of excitement. That was exactly what he had been hoping for.

xXx

It took a day and a half to reach Needham, even splitting shifts at the wheel, and as soon as they arrived, they booked a room at a motel to use as a base and place for the rift to be opened. They got strange looks when six people filed into a room designed for two, but Dean didn’t intend for any of them to sleep there. They would get Michael and get the rift open quickly.

Dean had driven with Castiel and Jack while Mary, Bobby and Rowena rode together in Mary’s car. Jack had tried to talk on the journey, and Castiel had replied, but Dean had stayed silent, and eventually they both fell silent, sensing his need for quiet. On the final leg of the journey, Castiel encouraged Jack to try to sleep to gather as much energy as he could for when he faced Michael.

While they were gone, Charlie had accessed the newly-uploaded crime scene pictures, and she confirmed that they were angel kills. She had seen enough of them in her world to know for sure. That canceled the need to go by the morgue, so Dean took them straight to Crowley’s old court at the asylum.

He and Jack went in first, with Castiel, Bobby and Mary closely following. Rowena reluctantly brought up the rear. She hadn’t wanted to come, but Dean hoped she might be able to use the spell that had trapped Lucifer on Michael and so had persuaded her it was safer with them than alone at the motel. He didn’t want them to be forced into a kill-or-be-killed situation before they could extract Michael’s grace.

The place was as Dean remembered, although a little more dusty, as if it was out of use. He was worried they were following a false lead to the place, but Jack strode forward and marched towards the double doors that led into the throne room.

Dean rushed to keep up with him, his heart in his throat. Jack pushed open the double doors and Dean ran in, his blade in his hand, even though it was no threat to an archangel. He wanted to be armed, just as he wanted to be first. They all had a vested interest in getting Michael, but Dean felt that it was his more than theirs as this was his way to Sam.

Michael wasn’t in there though, and Dean’s heart sank. He hadn’t been sure that he would be, but he was still disappointed. He supposed it would have been too easy. 

There were people in there though, five demons with black eyes standing around the throne where a woman sat with her legs crossed and a look of supreme indifference on her face.

“Billie?” he asked.

She nodded and smiled slightly. “Hello again, Dean. It’s always interesting to see you. And you, Rowena. I see you’re in a better mindset than last time I saw you.”

The demons threw back their heads and smoke began to pour from their mouths, but Billie held out a hand at a male and then lowered it. As she did, the smoke receded into his mouth. The others dropped like stones as their demons left them.

“The cuffs, Mom!” Dean said urgently.

Mary pulled the demon cuffs from her jacket and, with Bobby’s help, she twisted the demon’s hands behind his back and snapped the cuffs around his wrists.

Billie looked around and sighed. “All dead. I will never be able to understand demons. Just because they _can_ hurt, it doesn’t mean they have to.”

“How are you alive?” Mary asked. “I saw Castiel kill you.”

“That was Billie the reaper,” Dean said. “Apparently she got an upgrade after. She’s Death now.”

“The Horseman?” Bobby asked.

“It’s Horsewoman now,” Billie said. “And Death was always so much more than that. He was eternal.” She glanced at Dean. “At least he was supposed to be. I am a force of the universe though, in no way created with the same weakness as Pestilence, Famine and War.”

“What are you doing here, Billie?” Dean asked.

“The same as you I imagine. My reapers reported angel kills, and since I know all angels are currently occupied keeping the lights on in Heaven, I guessed it had to be Michael. I want to speak to him.”

“What do you want to speak to him about?” Bobby asked.

“Perhaps speak was the wrong word. I want to deal with him.”

“You want to kill him?” Mary asked.

“Do you object to that? He doesn’t belong here. He is a threat to the world I am a part of. With God and The Darkness gone, it falls to me to retain the balance. I am not opposed to killing, you know that, Dean, but I don’t want this world destroyed as completely as his own was. I happen to like it. Put it down to my days spent reaping here. I developed a liking to the place.”

“You can’t kill him,” Dean said.

Billie raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were aware of the status quo here, Dean. I am Death. You are a human. Which of us do you think has the upper hand?”

“But we need him to get Sam back,” Mary said. “We need his grace.”

“Yes,” Billie said. “I know what happened to Sam. I get why you would _want_ to get him back, too, but Dean and I have already discussed the impatience I have with the Winchesters’ continuous encores. I know more now than I did then, but there are limits to even that. You are only _useful_ to an extent.”

“He’s dead then,” Dean said quietly. He felt guilty for being relieved. He _should_ want his brother alive, it felt wrong that he wasn’t, but he wanted what was best for Sam more than what he wanted for himself.

“Did I say that?” she asked innocently.

“Is he or isn’t he?” Jack asked angrily.

“Mind your tone with me, Nephilim,” she said carefully. “Whether Sam Winchester is alive or dead is not my story to tell.”

“But you know?” Mary asked.

“Of course I know. I am Death.”

Dean took a breath, tried to calm himself from the rapidly spiking emotions that were running through him, and said, “We want Michael dead, too, but we need something from him first.”

“His grace, I heard, but what makes you think I will let that happen? Opening rifts is dangerous. You never know what might come through.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it,” Mary said confidently.

Billie shook her head, looking amused. “Really?”

“Give us a chance,” Dean said, trying to keep the note of pleading out of his voice. “You’re Death. Whatever comes through, you can deal with it in a heartbeat if we can’t. And we have Jack on our side.”

“Why should I clean up another of your messes?”

“Because I’m asking you to,” Dean said.

She laughed. “You think that should mean something to me? You have already taken enough liberties in your life, Dean, with many powerful beings. Why would you think I would sign up to be another of them?”

“Please,” Mary begged. “We need him back. We will take care of anything else that happens, I promise. Just give us a chance.”

Billie looked thoughtful for a moment. “I accept that you have the power to do it with the nephilim on your side, but…”

“I can kill him,” Jack said boldly. “And I can stop whatever else might come through. Just let us bring them back.”

Dean was on the point of snapping at him that Lucifer didn’t matter, but Billie laughed and nodded and he was distracted.

“Ah, yes, you want your father back. I would give that some serious thought if I were you. All worlds are mine, and I know what your father has been doing in that world.”

“To Sam?” Mary asked querulously.

“To everyone,” Billie said. She got to her feet. “I am not making a deal with you, but I will take you on in a race. Whoever reaches Michael first can do with him what they want. If I find him, I will kill him. If you find him, you can extract whatever you need and _then_ kill him. I will even give you a chance to get ahead. This demon will be able to tell you something about Michael and his plans that you may not already know. I have heard what I need from him and I have my own opinion about what I heard. I will let you draw your own from what he says.”

“We’ll get his grace if we find him?” Dean asked.

“If you win, you can take what you like. If I win, it will be over, and no impassioned pleas will change my mind.” She smiled slightly and said, “Good luck,” before disappearing without a sound.

Mary breathed out shakily and Bobby laid a hand on her shoulder, but Dean took no time to calm himself before getting to work. It was a race now, and they needed to reach the finish line first, which meant they needed to know what this demon did about Michael. He took his arm and shoved him into the throne and then withdrew the demon-killing knife from his jacket.

“Talk!” he commanded.

He had seemed scared when Billie was there, but her exit seemed to have given the demon a false sense of bravado that Dean knew he was going to need to break.  He was practiced at breaking down defenses though, he had learned how at Alastair’s side, and he was going to put those lessons to use now, despite the fact his mother was watching. 

He cut across the demon’s cheek, drawing crackling light and blood, and leaned closer. “Let’s try that again. Talk. What do you know about Michael?”

“You can cut at me all you like, Winchester, but I’m not talking. I want to see Death win, not you, and nothing you can do to me is going to change that. You Winchesters win too often.”

Dean pressed the knife to his throat and made a shallow cut. “It’s all in the name,” he said.

The demon laughed. “You’re pathetic.”

Mary shoved Dean and he moved to the side automatically, his mouth dropping open as he saw his mother raise the angel blade she’d brought to the corner of the demon’s eye. “Talk or lose the eye,” she said.

The demon tried to hang onto his bravado, but when Mary pressed the tip of the blade infinitesimally closer, cutting into the skin at the corner of the eye and drawing a trickle of blood, he broke. “Okay! I’ll talk! Just get that thing away from me.”

“Not until I’ve had a chance to decide it I like what I hear or not,” Mary said. “What do you know about Michael?”

“What was the message?” Dean asked.

“It was demons this time, but it will be angels next unless you give him the spell. He wants you to send Castiel with it. He knows there aren’t enough angels left. He will kill them and destroy Heaven if you don’t. He said he just wants to go home.”

Dean glanced back at Castiel who shook his head. “They’re not leaving Heaven.”

“He said he’ll find a way in,” the demon said. “He said the rules don’t apply to him. He can’t be kept out.”

“Kept out?” Mary asked.

“He doesn’t belong,” the demon said. “This isn’t his world, but he said that won’t stop him.”

Dean felt a sinking in his stomach that he didn’t immediately understand. It was better that Michael not be able to get to Heaven easily. Even though he said he had a way, it didn’t mean he really did. They might be protected by staying there. 

Then he realized what his mind had been shying away from, and he felt sick. If Michael didn’t belong in Heaven here, Sam didn’t belong in Heaven there. Did that mean he couldn’t go there either? Was he dead and trapped in the Veil, or was something even worse happening to him?

He wanted to ask Castiel, but he was afraid of the answer. He shook his head and addressed the demon. “What else do you know?”

“Nothing, I swear. He didn’t say anything else.”

“What do you think, Dean?” Mary asked. 

“He’s telling the truth,” Dean said, his voice weak even to his own ears. He had not been able to shake away his fear for Sam. “You can finish it.”

“What? No! I told you everything!” the demon said fearfully.

“I know,” Mary said. “Which means we don’t need you anymore.” With a cruel smile she shoved her hand forward, the blade cutting through the demon’s eye and into his head.

Light blazed, and Dean looked away. A part of him was marveling at the coldhearted end Mary had executed, but the rest of him was filled with horror for his brother.

“Get the cuffs off,” he said curtly as he turned and walked to the door. “I’ll meet you back at the motel. Cas, come with me.”

“Dean?” Mary called after him.

Dean didn’t look back. He just held up a hand and said, “I’ll see you at the motel.”

He strode through the doors and then through the exit to the Impala. He climbed in behind the wheel and waited for Castiel to settle beside him before bringing the engine to life and pulling into the light flow of traffic.

“I know that didn’t go as we planned, but at least we have a chance, Dean,” Castiel said in a tone that was intended to be comforting but failed to ease Dean’s tension. “We can find Michael first. And there is still a chance for a dreamwalker.”

Dean shook his head and gripped the steering wheel. “Where’s Sam, Cas?”

“He’s dead,” Castiel said confidently. “In the other world.”

“I know that’s what you want to believe, it’s what I want to believe, too, but if he is, where is he?”

Castiel drew in a breath, and Dean glanced at him to see he looked almost afraid.

“He’s not in Heaven, is he?” Dean asked.

“No,” Castiel said quietly.

“How long have you known?”

“I always knew. I just hoped…”

“I wouldn’t ask?” Dean guessed. “Now I’m asking. Where is he?”

“If Sam is dead, he is in the Empty. There is no other place for him there. He would not have chosen the Veil, and he cannot access that Heaven.”

Dean gritted his teeth and tried to force back his tears. “That’s sleep, right?”

“It was for everyone but me.”

And if Sam’s luck carried on the way it had his whole life, it wouldn’t be for him either. “And if he’s awake?”

“It’s darkness with only the Entity,” Castiel said, his voice steeped in misery. “But he might be sleeping.”

“Do you really believe that?” Dean asked. “Because I don’t. He’s either being tortured by Lucifer or he’s in that place, maybe sleeping, but more likely just wandering forever.”

“I was only awake because of Jack. Sam really could be sleeping.”

“It’s still not enough!” Dean shouted. “Maybe he is awake, annoying the Entity like you did. Maybe he’s been sent back because of it. He could be with Lucifer again now.”

Castiel flinched. “I know, Dean.”

“I’m never getting him back,” Dean said. “Even if he is alive, he’s going to be so traumatized that he’ll never be the same. His soul can only take so much damage. You said Adam was gone. Sam could be, too.”

Castiel took a breath and spoke slowly. “If Sam is alive, if he is even intact to the smallest degree, there is something we can do.”

Dean’s eyes snapped to him. “What?”

“I can take the trauma from him again.”

Dean’s mind reeled. He hadn’t even thought of that. His heart began to race. If Sam was alive and they got him back, he could be really back. His new hell could be taken by Castiel.

“Would you really do that?” he asked. “It knocked you out for months before, and then you damn near lost your mind. And it could be even worse this time. It’s more trauma added to what was already there.”

“Would Sam for me?” Castiel countered.

“You know he would,” Dean said. “Either of us would.”

Castiel smiled slightly. “Then I will do it for him.”

Dean’s breaths came quick. “Thank you, Cas.”

“So we’re hoping he is alive now?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said guiltily. “I feel like a asshole for even thinking it, for wanting him to be going through that rather than even having the peace the darkness would give him, but this means I might get him back.”

“Good,” Castiel said. “Because that is what I am hoping for, too.”

“Cas, man, I don’t know what to say. This is huge, you doing this for him.”

Castiel shrugged. “The very first lesson I learned from you, Dean, before I even laid a hand on you in Hell, was that there should be no limits to what you would do for family. Sam is my family, so I will do this for him.”

Dean felt a swelling in his chest that he didn’t immediately recognize as he had been so crippled with anger and depression that he’d forgotten it existed. He was feeling hope. If they could find Michael or a dreamwalker, if Sam was alive there, he could have him back. It was incredible to think of.

They were racing against Death herself, and they had an archangel to find, but that seemed like nothing to Dean now that he had this to cling to. 

Sam could be saved.


	12. Chapter 12

Naomi straightened up and stepped away from the table. Sam’s screams broke off and he breathed hard, though his face was as devoid of expression as before.

“Did you get it?” Lucifer asked.

“Yes.” She looked annoyed that he was even asking.

Lucifer was starting to rethink having her as second-in-command as she was a little too full of herself. She was here with Lucifer, the _archangel_ , destroyer of Michael—at least to their minds—and she was behaving as if he was the lesser one here. Lucifer might just kill her instead. For all her over-inflated opinions of herself, she was just a seraph. She would be no challenge. On the other hand, she might be useful again.

“Well?” Lucifer prompted. “What is it?”

“There are five ingredients,” she said. “The Seal of Solomon, fruit from the Tree of Life, the blood of a most holy man, and archangel grace. The last thing is a piece of something that has been to that world. Your grace should count. There is an incantation—Koth munto notox—that must be spoken as you use the Seal to direct the rift to where you want it opened. There is no way of knowing where in the world it will open on the other side.”

“That’s fine,” Lucifer said. “I can make it work. It’s probably better than we don’t arrive too close to my son. I need a little time before seeing him. Things to put into place.” He clapped his hands. “Okay then. Whereabouts is the Seal?”

“In his world they found it in another of these bunker places in Portsmouth, Rhode Island. It had been there since the twenties and the holder of the Seal was trapped, so it’s likely that it will still be there. It was with Yokoth.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “A pagan. They’re nothing.  I’ve killed plenty before.  Even Sam here has killed a few, haven’t you, Sam?” He patted Sam’s cheek roughly, making his head roll to the side. 

“The blood might be more difficult,” Naomi said. “They took it from a Maltese priest called Father Lucca Camilleri.”

“He could be alive still,” Lucifer posited. 

“He could, though Michael had us target members of the clergy when they began to speak against us. You’ll need to hope this one was loyal to the faith. And that he _kept_ his faith. When we were revealed as the nature of angels, many of them abandoned the church. I don’t imagine there are many left that would call themselves ‘most holy’ anything.”

“Yes, yes, that could be a sticking point,” Lucifer said. “But the rest is easy. I have the grace, and the fruit is a milk run.”

Naomi put her drilling equipment back into her bag and snapped it closed. “Do you need anything else from me?” she asked.

“That depends,” Lucifer said. “Do you want to come to this new world with me?”

Naomi considered. Lucifer had thought she would jump at the chance. Surely anything would be better than living in this ruined pit.  

“The rest of the Host is coming with me,” Lucifer said. “You will have subjects to interrogate again.”

He didn’t much care either way. She could be useful, but she wasn’t necessary. If she refused to come, Lucifer would kill her and be done with it.

“I will come,” she said.

Lucifer nodded. “In that case, I have a task for you. Take as many as you need to Malta and find this priest. I want his blood. Bart, you can go to Syria and get the fruit. I will take care of the Seal. Apart from Sam, I haven’t killed in a while, and it might be fun.” He looked at Naomi. “Is there anything else?”

“The rift,” she said. “It will only stay open twenty-four hours.”

“Not a problem,” he said. “If we’re all amassed in place and there’s no pushing, we can all be through in time.”

He strode to the door and Bartholomew called after him. “What about him? Do we leave him here?”

Lucifer turned and saw that Bartholomew was pointing at Sam. “He looks too comfy there. Stick him back in his cage. He can rot there when we’re gone.”

Bartholomew began to untie the bandages holding Sam in place and Lucifer strode out of the room, whistling as he went. He had the spell, he was going to kill a pagan god, and Sam was going to be trapped here forever. It was enough to make an angel feel on top of the world.

xXx

Killing Yokoth was even easier than Lucifer had thought, a disappointment really, but he did get the Seal, and he was smiling that he arrived back in the bunker.

While he’d been gone, he’d placed the order for all angels to congregate at the field beside the bunker, but he saw straight away that there had been a small flaw in that plan. There were too many of them to fit. They’d spilled into the neighboring fields and around the factory that stood above the bunker. He had been meeting them in small groups, so he hadn’t seen the true size of Michael’s former army. He was pleased to see them all. If even only half of them stayed loyal to him on the other side, he would have more than enough to enjoy leading.

They stirred anxiously as he passed them and entered the building, and he raised a hand to them. “It won’t be long,” he called. “We will be ready soon.”

He went through the door and down the stairs into the bunker proper. Bartholomew and Naomi were in the library waiting for him. In Bartholomew’s hand was a small bulging sack and Naomi was holding a bucket that smelled strongly of copper.

“You succeeded then,” Lucifer asked.

“The priest was found easily,” Naomi said. “He was midway through a sermon on forgiveness when I bled him.” She set the bucket down on the floor and Lucifer saw it was filled with blood.

“Did we need that much?” he asked.

“The Winchesters only used a vial of blood, but I thought perhaps it would be easier to take it all at once,” she said. “And it was satisfying.”

“Can’t fault you there,” Lucifer said. “We’re ready then?”

“We have everything but the grace,” Naomi said.

“I’ll get that now. Prepare what we need and meet me outside. I have just a couple things to do first.”

Naomi and Bartholomew walked from the room and Lucifer went through the halls to the place the supposedly learned men that had lived there kept their ingredients for spells. He found an empty vial and took a breath.

“Only a little,” he reminded himself, bringing his blade to his throat. He made the shallowest cut he could and the grace began to spill out. He lifted the vial and watched as the grace was siphoned inside, settling as bright light at the bottom and then drifting to the top as Lucifer capped it. He wiped a hand over his small wound, healing it, and cleared his throat. “That wasn’t so bad.” 

Clutching the vial in his hand he wandered out of the room and into the hall towards the dungeon. At his moment of triumph, he wanted to say his goodbyes. He was almost at the dungeon when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Maria coming toward him, looking sleepy and confused as she saw the grace in his hand.

“Ah,” Lucifer said. “Maria. Good news! We don’t need you anymore. We’ve found a way to my world without you. I’m going home. Wish me well.”

“You found a way?” Maria asked.

“We got it out of Sam eventually,” he said. “So your services are no longer required.”

She looked hopeful as she asked, “Can I still come with you?”

Lucifer’s formed his mouth into a moue of regret. “I don’t think that would be fair. You weren’t the one to give me the spell after all. And I have a job for you. Someone needs to stay and take care of Sam. He’s staying, too. You understand, don’t you?”

Maria’s eyes filled with tears. “I tried though.”

“I know you did. And that’s why I’m not killing you. You get to live here with Sam. That will be nice. You just need to make sure he stays in his cage and change his kitty-litter frequently.”

As she cried, he laughed.

“Just kidding. Sam doesn’t have any litter. Do what you can to make him uncomfortable.”

He reached out and cupped her cheek. She cringed away from his touch. He pulled back, annoyance running through him. He was trying to be nice. He could have just killed her. Some people were never satisfied.

He walked away from her, leaving her crying into her hands, and went into the dungeon. Sam was in his cage, leaning hard against the bars in front of him. The spikes had driven deep into his stomach and his cheek.

“Just came to say goodbye, Sam,” he said. “Thanks to you, I have a way home at last. I’d say it’s been good, but even killing you loses its shine eventually. I won’t see you again, so have a nice life—what’s left of it anyway. I’ll be sure to pass on your regrets to Jack. He’ll hear how you died like a hero.”

Sam made no reaction. He stared through Lucifer, blinking occasionally.

Lucifer turned to leave, and then spun on his heel and said, “Hell, why not?” He gripped the bars of the cage and yanked it towards him, stretching on his tiptoes to get the height, then released it. It swung backwards, and Sam was flung against the spikes behind him. He made no sound of pain, but Lucifer saw the blood flowing down onto the floor and he laughed.

“Goodbye, Sam.”

He left the room and walked through the hall, through the library where Maria sat at a table crying, up the stairs and out into the fresh air.

The host were shifting anxiously, and Lucifer grinned as he made his way over to Naomi and Bartholomew where they stood with the ingredients and a copper bowl prepared.

“Since you’re the one in the know, you should do the spell, Naomi,” he said, handing her his vial of grace and the Seal.

She took them and began to prepare the ingredients in the bowl.

Lucifer raised his voice and spoke loudly to the host around him. “This place I am taking you to is beautiful and full of potential. We’re going to make a paradise of it for us. That said, there are a few rules to follow. No smiting straight away. As soon as you’re through the rift, move. There are lots of us to come through, and we don’t want a bottleneck.  There is a place called Stull in Kansas where your Battle Royale should have started.”

“We know it well,” Bartholomew said.

“Go there and wait for me,” Lucifer said. “I have business to attend to first, but I will come. Wait for me.”

“I’m ready,” Naomi said.

“Perfect. Go ahead.”

Naomi chanted the Enochian and the bowl glowed with the light of Lucifer’s grace. She positioned the Seal over it and purple light streamed from it into the air where a rift of golden light began to spread.

Lucifer bounced on his heels, eager to be through. The rift spread to its fullest extent and Lucifer ran at it. He felt the disorienting sensation again and then his feet hit rocky ground. He was standing outside a cave and there were three humans staring at him in awe. They were dressed in hiking gear and their eyes were wide. He wasn’t sure if they were more amazed by his appearance or the rift that stretched behind him.

“You might want to run,” he said. “I’m not sure how obedient they are.”

Without waiting to see if they would obey. Lucifer spread his wings and reached out with his senses. He felt Jack pulsing strong, and he concealed himself before taking flight toward him. He knew he should go straight to Stull to address the angels there, but he needed to just check on his son first. Make sure he was okay. Get a gauge of how he was doing. Hell, just see him. Lucifer had missed the kid.

He set down on the side of a highway and watched as the black monster of an automobile roared past with Dean at the wheel and Castiel sitting beside him. Lucifer was disappointed that they were still alive, but also a little proud. Jack must have come through for them against Michael. Perhaps he was already dead even, though the look on Dean’s face made him doubt it. Following that car was a generic beige model with Mary Winchester behind the wheel, Bobby Singer beside her and Rowena on the back seat with Jack.

Lucifer’s breath caught at the sight of his son. He looked good, a little stressed maybe, his mouth downturned, but Lucifer saw past that to the real essence of his son. He was even more powerful than before. He’d obviously been training his powers in Lucifer’s absence. It was exactly what Lucifer needed. With Jack’s brawn and Lucifer’s brain, they could take out Michael.

The cars roared past, and Lucifer sighed out a breath. “I’ll see you real soon, Son,” he promised.

He would deal with the angels. Tell them what they needed to know about Michael and give them time to assimilate to their new, richer world, and then he would retrieve his son and get to work. Michael would be killed, and they would be together forever, father and son, side by side.

He needed to exercise a little patience, and then they would have it all. They would have the world.

xXx

Jack was in the backseat of Mary’s car with Rowena. The witch was tapping on her phone and Jack was staring out of the window. Neither Mary nor Bobby were talking in the front; Jack thought their thoughts were with his, thinking of their failure to catch Michael.

He was so disappointed. He’d really thought they were going to find him, that he would face him in battle at last. He’d wanted to get the grace and then destroy him once and for all. Now things were even more complicated. They were in a twisted race with Death to get to him first, and if they lost, the best chance to get Sam and Lucifer back was lost. Their only hope would be a dreamwalker, and they’d been searching forever and found nothing. The longer Sam and his father were there, the worse it was. Jack knew Lucifer wouldn’t be hurting Sam like Dean and Castiel said, but it still wasn’t a good place to be trapped. He’d spent months there. There were so many angels that would surely hate Lucifer, and though they couldn’t kill him, enough of them could surely do something to him. Jack needed them both back for their own sakes.

It bothered him that Dean and Castiel were so determined to believe the worst. Lucifer _had_ done awful things, Jack accepted that, but he had changed. He had saved Sam after the vampires killed him. Why would he hurt him after doing that? They thought they knew Lucifer better, but they only knew the old him. They hadn’t taken time to talk to him as Jack had. He was different. You only had to give him a chance to see that. They wouldn’t give him that chance. They only saw what he had been before, not what he was now.

Jack had done bad things, too. He’d killed. It was hard to be good when the world expected bad of you. Dean had hated him at first, threatened to kill him even, and he’d changed his mind. Maybe when they got Sam and Lucifer back, when they saw Lucifer had taken care of Sam, they would change their minds.

Jack was comforted by those thoughts, the idea of all of his family coming together, and he settled in his seat and let the landscape rush past him.

Suddenly, he was thrust forward as Mary slammed on the brakes. He looked ahead and saw Dean had veered onto the side of the road and was throwing himself out of the car. Jack got out quickly at the sound of Dean calling his name, and he met Dean between the cars. Dean was holding the phone to his ear but not speaking.

“What’s wrong, Dean?” Mary asked, appearing at Jack’s side with Bobby and Rowena closely following.

“A rift!” Dean said breathlessly. “It’s open! Sam!”

He didn’t seem able to string coherent sentences together, and Castiel took the phone from Dean’s hand and pressed the speaker button. “Say that again, Charlie,” he instructed.

“There’s a rift open!” Charlie said excitedly. “There are reports online on some of the more eclectic sites. I had a program searching for keywords, and hits just started coming through. There are witnesses. They say there’s a heavy military presence that looks a little strange; I’m thinking angels. They’re describing a golden line just hanging in the air and people showing up out of thin air. It’s gotta be a rift.”

“Where?” Mary asked intensely.

“Columbia, Missouri. A place in the Rock Bridge Memorial State Park. They said it’s near the Devil’s Icebox Cave.”

“How far?” Castiel asked Dean.

For a moment it seemed that Dean couldn’t speak, but then he raked a hand over his face and said. “We’re an hour out of Missouri at least.”

“Guys, we don’t know how long it’s been open,” Charlie said through the scratchy speaker. 

“Jack!” Dean said quickly. “You can get there. Find this place and get through that rift. Find Sam. If he’s alive, bring him out. If he’s dead, find his body. Don’t do anything else. No one else there matters. I don’t care what you see, who else needs you, find Sam.”

Jack nodded. He would find Sam, but he would also find his father.

 If Michael opened this rift, there was no way of knowing where it would open, but Jack could get there. If Sam was too far away, Jack would bring him with him. He’d never tried to fly with anyone else, but he knew Castiel had been able to do it, and he’d never had better control of his powers than he had now. He could do it.

Dean grabbed him by the collar and tried fruitlessly to shake him. “Bring him home!” he commanded.

“I will,” Jack promised. “I’ll get him.”

Dean nodded, and Jack stepped away from him and took flight, concentrating on his destination. He usually just landed wherever he did and worked from there, but this time he needed to find an exact place. He reached out and found a source of heat that he remembered from the rift that had taken him to that world. He dove towards it, landing in front of a cave with the rift glowing at the entrance. There were people there, armed with cameras and sitting on folding chairs in front of tents, and they cried out with shock when Jack arrived, but he paid them no attention. He threw himself at the rift, coming out in a field in darkness.

He looked around and recognized the familiar factory that was set above the bunker, and instinct made him run towards it and through the sunken doors. He raced down the stairs, calling for Sam. There was no one in the war room, but Jack heard a sound coming from the library. He raced towards it and saw a woman sitting at a table with her head in her hands, crying hard.

The woman, unexpected as she was, wasn’t the most outstanding part of the scene. There was a wooded cross attached to a metal frame that held it at an angle. There were leather restraints attached to the crosspieces, and beneath it was a large stain of dried blood. Jack told himself it was a stranger that had been on that rack, that it hadn’t been Sam or his father, but he feared the worst. 

He shook his head briskly and concentrated on what mattered. “Where’s Sam?” he asked. “Is he here? Is Lucifer?”

The woman sobbed harder but didn’t speak.

“Are they here?” Jack shouted.

“Lucifer’s gone back to his world. Sam is in the dungeon,” she whimpered.

Jack raced away from her towards the dungeon, calling for Sam at the top of his voice and listening carefully for any sound in return.

He skidded into the dungeon and sucked in a breath at what he saw. Sam was there! Alive! But he was in the spiked cage that Mary had been kept in at Michael’s Fortress.

“Sam!” he gasped. “I’m here. It’s me, Jack.”

Sam didn’t react at all. He stared past Jack with empty eyes that chilled Jack to the bone. He darted forward and reached for the bolt of the cage, swallowing hard as he saw the state of Sam’s face and torso. The spikes had obviously pressed into him at some point as there were wounds that looked deep with reddened edges.

He yanked open the cage door and reached in to pull Sam out when he made no move to do it himself. There was resistance and as he fell forward, Jack saw the wounds on his back that had clung to the spikes. 

Jack felt a constriction in his throat and his eyes were wet as his mind reeled at the state Sam was in.

“I’ve got you,” he said gently. “We’re getting you out of here.”

Sam got his legs under him and Jack pulled his arm over his shoulder. It was hard to support him as Sam was so much taller, but Sam seemed able to hold himself up well enough, and when Jack led him out at a brisk pace, he kept up. Jack was worried the rift was going to close on them, so he couldn’t take his time with Sam as he wanted to.

When they reached the library, Sam pulled away from him and walked towards the rack. Jack felt sick as the meaning occurred to him. It hadn’t been Lucifer or a stranger that had been tied to it. It had been Sam.

“No, Sam,” he said. “You don’t need that. We’re getting out of here.”

He led Sam firmly toward the war room, the eyes of the woman on them.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’m taking him home,” Jack said.

“To the other world?” She gasped. “Can I come?”

Jack hesitated. “Was this you? Did you hurt him?”

“No. I tried to help by working on the tablet so Lucifer would spare him. I was too slow though. Lucifer always hurt him.”

Jack’s mind reeled. “Lucifer did this to him!”

“Yes, He would torture him when I didn’t have the answers,”

Jack wanted to shout his anger to the room, to release some of the pain he felt at how incredibly wrong he had been and how Sam had suffered because of it, but he held it in, knowing it was going to come back and torment him when Sam was safe.

“You can come,” he said. “Hurry.”

She jumped up and rushed ahead of Sam and Jack. Making their way up the stairs was awkward, and Jack counted the steps off for Sam, but then they reached the door, and Jack followed Maria out into the cool night air.

Sam seemed to slow, tiring perhaps, but Jack urged him on. “We’re almost there. Dean and Mary are waiting. We have to keep going a little further.”

Sam moved faster, and Jack pointed the woman to the rift. “Go through,” he commanded. “Don’t stop. We can’t wait for you, and you can’t get in our way.”

Maria ran ahead, hesitating only a moment before she ran into the rift. Jack and Sam reached it, and Jack stopped a moment. He wasn’t sure they could go through together. He had to make Sam go through first because he didn’t think Sam would follow of his own accord, as dazed as he was.

He positioned Sam in front of him and pushed him forward until the light swallowed him. When Sam was gone, he ran forward after him, colliding with Sam on the other side. He grabbed Sam’s shoulders and steadied him, looking around at the people that were staring at them in awe.

“Where did you go?” a man with a long beard asked. “What’s on the other side?”

“Hell,” Jack said. “Stay away from the light. It’s not safe.”

The man nodded, and Jack addressed a woman that was getting out of her seat. “Can he sit down?” he asked. “He’s hurt.”

“I can see that,” she said. “Was he really in Hell?”

Jack thought of the cage that had pierced Sam’s body with its spikes. The rack that had held him and the dark blood beneath it.  “Yes. He was.”

The woman gestured them to the chair and Jack led Sam over and then directed him to sit. Sam moved with mechanical movements, sitting stiffly in the chair.

“Should we call an ambulance?” a young girl asked.

Jack thought Sam probably did need real help, but Castiel could give that more effectively than a hospital. “Someone’s already coming. Do you have blankets? He’s freezing.”

“Yes,” a man said, going to a green tent behind him and coming out with a bundle of red blankets. “I’ve got clothes, too, if you need them.”

Jack wanted to get him as warm as he could as fast as he could without wasting time dressing him, so he shook his head and took the blankets. He wrapped them tightly around Sam, bundling him up against the air. It wasn’t particularly cold, but Sam’s skin was chilled—and it felt strange.  When he was sure Sam was as covered as he could be, he asked, “Does anyone have a phone”

Hands rooted in pockets and four phones were held out to him. Jack took the closest and dialed Dean’s number. It was answered almost immediately, and Jack heard the roar of the Impala’s engine in the background.

“ _Yes!”_

“It’s me,” Jack said.

_“Did you get him out?” Dean asked. “Is he… is he alive?”_

“Yes, I got him and he’s alive,” Jack said.

He heard a shaky breath, and in the background of the call someone started to cry.  

_“How is he?”_

“He needs Castiel,” Jack said, not able or willing to attempt to find the words to explain anything more about Sam’s condition: how he stared right through Jack, how he showed no sign of pain from his wounds, how the only independent movement he’d made was toward the rack, how he didn’t even seem to realize Jack was there properly.

 _“Give him the phone,”_ Dean ordered.

“He can’t talk right now,” Jack said evasively. “He’s resting.”

 _“Okay,”_ Dean said in a cracked voice. _“Tell him we’ll be there soon. I’m coming to get him.”_

“I will,” Jack said. “I should go.”

 _“Yes!”_ Dean said quickly _“Go take care of him. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”_

The call cut without off another word, and Jack handed it back to the man he’d borrowed it from. He took a breath and then squatted in front of Sam’s chair. He touched his cold cheek and brought his head around to face him. He looked into Sam’s eyes, searching for a reaction, but Sam didn’t even seem to see him.

“Dean is coming, Sam,” he said. “They’re all on their way. You’re going to be okay.”

Sam blinked, but Jack thought that was a reflex rather than an attempt to communicate. He didn’t think that Sam could hear him at all. And that scared him.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean’s foot was pressed down hard on the accelerator and the landscape was rushing past at speed, but it still didn’t feel fast enough. He needed to be there now, with Sam, taking care of him, just seeing him even.

Sam was back, alive, and that truth felt incredible; they would be together again, but Dean was scared of what had happened to him. Jack said he needed Castiel, which meant he was hurt. There was no knowing what Lucifer had done to him, what trauma he had sustained.

They had a way to save him, Castiel would sacrifice his own mind to save Sam’s if he needed to, but even that would come at a cost. Castiel could be lost. He had been comatose before, and it had taken the revelation of the Word of God to rouse him. What if they couldn’t get him back at all this time? It would be bad enough to lose Castiel, but there was what Sam would end up going through, too. He was going to tie himself up in knots with guilt, never accepting that it was Castiel’s choice to do it. That was almost as big a risk as leaving him with the trauma altogether. Dean wasn’t sure if Sam was going to be able to handle it.

The fact that Castiel was willing to do it was a mark of their family’s bond. He would sacrifice himself for Sam as Dean had done before, as Sam had been willing to do so Dean would be protected from his actions under the influence of the Mark of Cain, as Mary would have to save them both when their deal with Billie came due. It was what they did, but surely at some point there would be a limit to what they could do for each other.  

“We’re close,” Mary said quietly, looking out of the window at a mile marker.

Dean handed Castiel the phone and said, “Call that number back. Put it on speaker.”

Castiel obeyed, and a moment later there was the sound of ringing and then a man’s voice. _“Hello?”_

“Put Jack on,” Dean said. “The kid that used this phone before.”

“ _One minute. He’s with his friend.”_ There was the sound of the phone changing hands and then Jack’s tense voice. _“Dean, are you close?”_

“Yeah. How’s Sam?”

There was a long pause and then Jack said, _“He’s the same. Still resting.”_

Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat. The fact Sam was bad enough to need to rest was a sign of just what kind of state he was in. Any other time he would be on the phone, reassuring Dean.

“Is there any sort of landmark to help us find exactly where you’re at?” Dean asked.

He heard Jack speaking in a muffled voice and then he came back clear. _“They say there’s a place called Gan’s Creek; it’s just after you turn on Route 163._

Dean checked the sign they were passing and said, “We’re two miles away. We’ll be there soon.”

 _“You have to park; the trail is too narrow for a car. We’re about half a mile along the trail. Castiel should hear us before he sees us. There’s still a lot of people here. The rift closed though, and I didn’t see any more angels. I think they’re all through.”_ He hesitated. _“Dean, there was a lot of them. If they’re all here now…”_

“That doesn’t matter. We’ll deal with them later,” Dean said. “We’ve got to take care of Sam first.”

 _“Yes,”_ Jack said, and there was a fervency in his voice that scared Dean. Just what was he going to find at that cave? _“Should I bring Sam to you?”_

“No. If he’s hurt, he needs to stay as still as possible.”

_“Okay. He can walk though.”_

Dean winced and he heard a choked sob from his mother. The fact it was in question at all was enough to scare Dean.

“We’re coming,”” Dean said. “Cas is going to stay on the line with you.”

Castiel moved the phone back and held it in front of him and Dean spun the wheel, driving them onto Route 163.

“It’s there, Dean,” Castiel said, pointing at a wooden sign that said Gan’s Creek.

Dean skidded them to a stop in the parking lot and threw himself out of the car. He didn’t wait for anyone else to be out before starting out along the trail at a run. He heard Castiel telling Jack they were close and then Jack’s reply that he could hear them coming. Dean started to shout for his brother. He knew Sam wouldn’t hear him yet, but Jack could and he would tell Sam.

Castiel fell into step at his side, and Dean heard Mary behind him. He didn’t know what had happened to Bobby and Rowena, if they’d be able to find the place, as they hadn’t kept up on the road with Dean pushing the Impala to its limits. They would need them to get back to the bunker. Sam would need space in the car, and Dean wanted to keep him close. He would call Bobby when they had taken care of Sam, and send Jack ahead to the bunker if they needed to. He wanted Sam to be comfortable on the ride, or at least as comfortable as he could be. Dean remembered feeling crowded if people were too close after his time in Hell. Sam would need to get used to being around people again.

He heard voices ahead, and he pushed himself even faster, coming to a place with tents and people standing around a campfire. Jack stood with his back to him, leaning over a chair.

Dean called Sam’s name, and Jack turned around and then stepped away, giving Dean his first look at his brother. He choked on a sob of relief at the sight of him, there, alive, and dropped down beside him.

“I’m here, Sammy,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

Sam was bundled in blankets and someone had put a hat on him, but when Dean touched his cheek, he felt that it was icy.

“Sam?” he said when his brother failed to follow his voice and look at him. “It’s me.”

Sam blinked but there was no other sign that he had heard. His face was expressionless and his eyes distant. The corner of his right eye was bloody. He stared straight ahead. Dean moved so that he was in Sam’s line of vision, and willed Sam to look at him, but he just stared right through him. A heavy weight settled on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

“How long’s he been like this?” he asked Jack.

“Since I found him,” Jack said. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

It didn’t matter to Dean that he’d had no forewarning. All he cared about was that Sam was so completely shut down. He’d seen something similar when the Hell memories had flooded Sam’s mind after Castiel broke the wall down, but he’d become unconscious almost as soon as Dean registered it, and all other thoughts had been driven away. 

Mary appeared at his elbow and she breathed Sam’s name. “How is he?”

Dean had no words to explain, and he thought she would see it for herself soon enough.

Dean looked at the wound on Sam’s cheek and he asked, “Where else is he hurt?”

“His back, stomach and chest,” Jack said. “The spikes in the cage were in him when I got there.”

“What cage?” Castiel asked.

“It’s like an iron maiden,” Dean said. “But it hangs from the ceiling.”

“It’s worse that way,” Mary said quietly. “Even moving a little makes it swing.”

Dean had seen his mother in the spiked cage when Jack had shown them her in the other world, and the thought that another member of his family had been put in there was abhorrent, and yet he knew that was the best scenario for Sam. The cage would have been brutal for even an hour, never mind as long as Sam had been gone, but there were worse possibilities that Dean didn’t want to imagine.

Dean pulled back the blankets, baring Sam’s chest and stomach. He sucked in a breath as he took in Sam’s visible ribs and concave stomach. He looked as though he had been starved. Dean supposed he probably had been, though how Lucifer had kept him alive without feeding him he didn’t understand, unless his grace had been used somehow to sustain him. 

The wounds the spikes had driven into Sam were deep and they’d bled copiously. Some of them were reddened enough that Dean suspected infection. He didn’t need to see the ones on Sam’s back to know they were going to be as bad if not worse.

“Cas,” he said tersely.

Castiel appeared on the other side of the chair, his mouth pressed into a thin line and his eyes tight with anger. Dean guessed he was feeling the same fury towards the creature that had done this to Sam as he himself was. Castiel pressed a hand to the center of Sam’s chest and light glowed under his palm. Dean blinked and Sam’s wounds were gone.

He heard gasps of shock behind him and someone said, “Whoa!” in an awed voice.

“We need to get him out of here, Dean,” Castiel said.

Dean didn’t much care about the witnesses to what was happening, but he did want to get Sam out of there and home, get him warm, even though the air felt warm to him, not nearly cold enough to explain the chill of Sam’s skin. He wrapped the blankets around Sam again to warm him and conceal the terrible sight that was Sam’s starved body.

Dean was starting to feel overwhelmed by what he was seeing, as if the horror was trying to drown him, so he closed it down and retreated into facts. Sam had lost a lot of weight so they needed to get food into him. He was cold so they needed to warm him up. He moved onto the more disturbing fact. He wasn’t responding to them, he didn’t seem to see them at all, so they needed to break through this shocked state he was in and reach him.

They needed to get him out of there so they could start taking care of him properly.

He put Sam’s arm over his shoulder and eased him up. Sam didn’t resist him, he moved with Dean, but he showed no sign of wanting to make independent movement either.

“Come on, Sammy,” he said. “We’re getting you out of here.”

“Can I come?” a woman asked, drawing Dean’s attention for the first time. She was dressed in the ragged and dirty clothes he had seen from some of the others in the apocalypse world, and her eyes were red and wet.

“Who are you?” Dean asked.

“Maria,” she said. “I was there with Sam. I tried to help him.”

“Yeah, sure. Just follow us,” Dean said. He thought she might be able to give them some answers about what had happened to Sam if nothing else.

He started walking along the trail back towards the parking lot, Sam’s arm still over his shoulder. Though Sam seemed to need no support, Dean needed the reassurance of touch. Mary fell into step at Sam’s side and she took his hand. Dean knew she was trying to comfort herself as well as Sam with the gesture, but from the way she cringed, Dean thought it hadn’t worked.

Dean heard Jack thanking the people that had helped him, and then he, Castiel and Maria walked ahead of them and led them along the trail.

Dean spoke soft reassurances to Sam as they walked, telling him they were getting him home now, that he was okay, that they were going to take care of him, but Sam made no response and Dean suspected he wasn’t hearing a word of what was being said.

“His hand, Dean,” Mary said, her voice strained.

“What about it?” he asked.

“It feels wrong.”

“He’s cold,” Dean said. “We’ll turn the heat on in the car when we get him there.”

“It’s more than that,” she said. “Don’t you feel it, too?”

“No,” Dean said curtly, not wanting to examine what she was saying and discover another thing to worry about.

“What is it?” Jack asked.

“It’s like touching a corpse.”

“Stop!” Dean snapped. “He doesn’t need to hear that. He’s just cold.”

But now that he’d heard it, he couldn’t ignore the way Sam’s arm felt over his shoulder, or his cool hand in Dean’s where he held him in place. Mary was right. It was like touching a corpse. It wasn’t just the temperature. It was something in the rigid muscles and lack of resistance in the skin. It was like he wasn’t really there.

For a moment he wondered if there was something seriously wrong that he hadn’t seen, but he reminded himself that Castiel would have known when he healed him. It had to just be the shock. Sam had been through a lot.

They were almost back to the parking lot when they heard people coming towards them. Dean slowed but Castiel said, “It’s just Bobby and Rowena,” and he moved faster, eager to get Sam into the warm car.

Bobby stopped in front of them and his eyes widened as he caught sight of Sam. “Damn…” he breathed.

Dean carried on past him without comment, skirting Rowena who looked shocked, leaving Castiel to explain to Bobby what had happened.

He saw his mother’s car parked beside the Impala where Bobby had left it, and he said, “Mom, open the back up.”

Mary released Sam’s hand and opened the back door of the Impala. Dean guided Sam inside, pleased when he lifted his legs in of his own accord and turned in the seat.

“You drive, Mom,” he said. “I’m staying in the back with Sammy. Bobby, can you take Rowena, Jack and Maria with you? Cas, you’re with us.”

“This is Maria,” Jack explained, gesturing to the woman.

Bobby directed Maria to his car and she climbed in the back. Dean made sure Sam was settled then walked around the car and got in on the other side, moving closer to Sam and adjusting the blankets around him so he was better covered. He tried not to notice the way Sam’s skin felt when he brushed it.

Mary got in behind the wheel and Castiel took the shotgun seat. Mary turned the key Dean had left in the ignition when he had run to Sam, and twisted the dial to start the heat coming through the vents. “Should we go home or do we need to stop and take care of him straight away?” she asked.

“Take us home,” Dean said. “He’s physically healed, but he needs clothes, a comfortable bed, some decent food, and proper heat. He can sleep while we drive.”

Mary nodded and reversed them out of their spot.

Castiel looked back over his shoulder at Sam, and Dean gave him a questioning look, wondering what Castiel might be seeing with his enhanced abilities that he couldn’t. Castiel shook his head slightly and turned back.

Dean wanted to ask what he was thinking, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer. They had a long drive back to the bunker, and he was already stressed almost to his breaking point. He couldn’t deal with more than he already was without losing something, and he needed to be strong. Sam needed his brother to hold on and handle it, because it was obvious that Sam couldn’t for himself. ~~~~

xXx

Michael stood at the peak on Mount McKinley, staring out at the wilderness around him.

He had always liked mountains. The feeling of infinite space around them at the peak reminded him of how the world had been before humans had been created. Some of the beauty of his Father’s creation had been ruined by them, but there were still places of magnificence that they hadn’t yet marred.

His plans to open a rift had not yet come into being. He was sure the prophet would come through for him, but he did not think it would be a fast process, and he still hadn’t had a revelation about how he could destroy the demons without destroying the world in the process. He wanted to keep this one in as good a condition as he had found it, but they needed to be dealt with. He would not share the world with his brother’s abominations.

He looked around warily, suddenly uncomfortable. There was no need to leave this place, there was nowhere he needed to be, but he was still uneasy, as if something was happening just outside of his ability to sense. He didn’t like the sensation. He wasn’t accustomed to worrying in his own world.

He was considering moving on when he sensed an angel’s approach and Naomi appeared in front of him, drawing her wings in at her back. Michael examined her closely, wondering if this was his new world’s version of the angel, but her attire and hard expression made him sure she was his former loyal assistant. Michael felt a moment of shock that he quickly covered and spoke mildly. “Naomi, how are you here?”

“Lucifer managed to open a rift,” she said.

Michael couldn’t hide his reaction this time. “Where? Take me!”

Naomi spread her wings again and Michael did the same, joining her as she took flight and following her into a forest when she set down in front of a cave. There were humans there, packing up tents and folding chairs. They didn’t seem as shocked by their arrival as Michael expected them to be; in fact a man shook his head and said, “Lordly, here we go again.”

Michael’s eyes scanned the area for a sign of the rift, but there was nothing. “Where is it, Naomi?” he snapped.

“It was here,” Naomi said. She pointed at the man that had spoken. “You! What happened to the doorway that was here?”

“The light, you mean?” he asked. “It disappeared a couple hours ago, after the kid brought the sick man through.”

Michael strode forward and gripped the man’s head in his hands. He raked through his mind, discarding a lifetime of memories for the most recent. He saw angels pouring out of the rift and disappearing as they took flight, and then the nephilim rushing through it, coming back only minutes later with the man he’d left with Lucifer when he’d come through the rift. He knew from memories he’d seen when he had the nephilim that he was Mary Winchester’s son. The man looked half-dead, and there was no awareness in his face, but Michael barely paid him a moment’s attention. His interest lay in the host of other angels that had come through before him.

He pulled back from the man’s mind and allowed his grace to stream through the man’s body, killing him the moment it touched his heart. The people around them started to run, but Michael sent a blast of grace at them, destroying their bodies where they stood.  

When the last of them had dropped to the ground, he looked at Naomi. “Did you all come through with him?”

“The entire Host,” Naomi said.

Michael felt the urge to laugh, but he withheld it with dignity. He didn’t need a rift now. Lucifer had done the job for him.

“Where are the others?” he asked.

“Some are exploring the planet. Some are still growing accustomed to the fact they’re here, and some are with Lucifer.”

Michael frowned. “Why haven’t they come to me?” 

“Because they don’t know you’re alive. Lucifer has been bragging that he killed you. I only learned the truth because I saw you passing through the rift in the prisoner’s mind. Lucifer didn’t mention it, so I think he overlooked the fact I would know.”

Michael considered carefully. If they didn’t know he was alive, they wouldn’t know to come to him. He had to find them, to reveal himself to the Host, and bring them back to him. “They must be told.”

“I think most will come,” Naomi said.

“Only most?”

She looked in him in the eyes shamelessly. One of the things he’d always admired about Naomi was her sense of self. She didn’t shy away from him.

“Lucifer says he had plans for this world that are better than what happened to ours. I think that will tempt some of them to his side.”

“I have plans, too,” Michael said. “I won’t make the same mistakes again. When they know that, they will come to me. And if they don’t, I will kill Lucifer sooner than I had planned, and then they will have no choice.”

“Very good,” Naomi said.

Michael spread his arms wide and drew a deep breath of the frigid air into his vessel’s lungs. “Come with me, Naomi. There is work for us to do.”

Loyal as ever, Naomi spread her wings and took flight beside him. 


	14. Chapter 14

The drive to the bunker seemed to take forever, and Sam didn’t sleep at all, even though Dean had insisted that the radio was kept on a soft rock station playing quietly and they had barely spoken at all, usual sure ways for Sam to fall asleep in the car. He had remained staring into space, cold under his blankets. Dean had wished he would sleep, if for no other reason than to give Dean a break from seeing him looking like that—empty.

When they finally got back, Dean asked Mary to clear out the path to the bedrooms so that Sam didn’t have to walk past anyone while he was vulnerable. When Mary came back and gave him the nod, Dean guided him into the bunker and through to his bedroom.

Sam showed no reaction to being home as Dean had expected and hoped for. It seemed he could have been anywhere at all when Dean stopped him in the bedroom and settled him on the side of the bed. He cranked up the heat higher to warm the room and unwrapped the blankets from his shoulders and took off the hat someone had put on him.

Sam’s torso was dark with dried blood, and his jeans were stained with layers of bloodstains that told Dean almost as much as his blank stare that Sam had suffered more than just being locked in a cage in that place.

Dean filled the basin with warm water and used a facecloth to gently wipe the blood from Sam. There was so much of it that he had to change out the water twice, grabbing a new facecloth each time he did. When his torso was clean and dried, Dean dressed him with difficulty, choosing a t-shirt and thick hoodie in hopes that they would bring him some warmth.

When that was done, he stood Sam up and stripped him from the waist down. Sam’s legs had lost the thick muscle definition he’d had before, looking almost skinny now with slack skin from where he had lost the weight so quickly. It was unhealthy, and the sight upset Dean almost as much as the way his skin felt against his hands as he cleaned the blood.

He finished washing Sam’s legs and dressed him in a pair of soft sweatpants then settled him on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Sam moved with him, offering no resistance, though Dean thought even Sam fighting him would have been better than what he was now. At least then Dean would have known Sam was aware that Dean was there at all.  

He laid blankets over Sam’s legs and stomach, tucking them in tightly then opened the bedroom door. Castiel was waiting outside the room, and at Dean’s nod, he came inside. Dean emptied the basin of the red water and wiped around for the remnants of blood and tossed the facecloths and towels he’d used into Sam’s laundry hamper.

“How is he?” Castiel asked.

“No change,” Dean said.

Castiel looked Sam up and down and nodded. “At least he will be more comfortable now. There is something very disturbing about being coated in your own blood.”

That was something Dean, Sam and Castiel had all experienced before, and it wasn’t pleasant. The pain was bad enough, but the physical evidence of what had happened was almost as bad sometimes. It made you feel vulnerable.

“Your mother is in the kitchen making Sam some soup,” Castiel said.

“Good. He needs to eat.”

“Do you think he will?”

Dean knew Castiel could see as clearly as Dean could that it was going to be a struggle to get him to eat anything if he stayed like this. He raked a hand over his face. “Honestly, Cas, I don’t know. I hope so. We need to get something in him. If we can’t bring him out of this, we’re going to need medical supplies for him. We can’t set up a feeding tube, so we’d be limited to IVs for fluids, and he needs more than that.”

“Or we can take him to a hospital,” Castiel said.

“I really don’t want that. He should be here with us.” Dean sighed. “What do you think this is? Is it shock or some kind of PTSD?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel admitted. “I have little experience with this kind of trauma. Sam is the only one I have seen experience something like this before, and that was different. His soul was so damaged.”

“I remember,” Dean said bitterly. “What do you think it’s like now?”

“I don’t know, and we will never find out. I would not put Sam though the kind of agony it would take to touch it and see again. He has been through too much.” Castiel looked at Dean. “I know you want me to try to shift the experience again, and I want to, but I need to know what I am shifting. If this is a result of damage to his soul from what happened to him, if it’s a physical thing, I won’t be able to help. We need to know what happened to him.”

Dean knew that he would need to find out eventually, but he was scared of it. As it was, he had nightmarish imaginings of what Sam had been through, but he thought the truth might be even worse. “I’ll find out, just not yet,” he said.

Castiel nodded. “You should sleep. You have been awake for almost two days now.”

“You think I’ll be able to sleep?” Dean said incredulously.

“I could help you,” Castiel offered.

“Don’t you dare! I have to be awake in case he needs me.”

“He does need you,” Castiel said gently. “He needs us all, but he needs us at our best, not collapsing from exhaustion. I don’t need to rest. I can stay with him.”

“No!” Dean snapped. “I’ll sleep when he does.”

There was movement at the door and Mary came in with a tray holding a bowl of soup and bottle of water. She smiled at Dean, though it was a forced thing that didn’t meet her eyes, and said, “Tomato and rice. I used to make it for you. Do you remember?”

Dean forced a smile in return. “Yeah. That’s good. He’ll like it.”

Mary sat on the edge of the bed beside Sam and said, “I’ve got you something to eat, Sam. You’ve got to be hungry.” She lifted Sam’s hand, poorly hiding a grimace at the touch, and manipulated his fingers so he was holding the spoon.  She looked pleased and dipped it in the soup. “There you go. Try some.”

When she released Sam’s hand, he dropped the spoon back into the bowl without making a move to feed himself, not even looking down.

“That’s okay,” Mary said. “I can help.”

She took the spoon and dipped it into the soup and brought it to Sam’s mouth. Dean turned away. He couldn’t bear to see this. His strong, virile, brother was reduced to being fed like a baby. It was so wrong.

“Please, Sam,” Mary said.

Dean looked back and saw the soup dripping out of Sam’s mouth and down his chin. He hadn’t even tried to swallow it. Bile rose in Dean’s throat and he walked quickly to the basin, avoiding looking at his reflection in the mirror above, and wet another facecloth and then handed it to his mother. She took it and wiped Sam’s chin.

“I need to…” Dean broke off and fled from the room.  

Of everything he had seen since finding Sam sitting by that campfire, nothing had affected him the way seeing his mother attempting to feed Sam like that had. It brought home to him just how damaged his little brother was. He was completely gone, not even able to feed himself or register someone else trying to. It made him wonder where Sam was within himself. Was it just darkness he saw, or was Sam aware but unable to reach out to the world again? Was his torture over now or was it just starting?

As little as he wanted to hear it, Dean knew he had to know what had happened to Sam so they could gauge what had put him in this state and work out what to do next. If they knew it was a spiritual problem, Castiel could try to fix it.

He reached the library and saw Charlie, Bobby, Rowena, Ketch, Kevin and Jack seated around a table. The woman that Jack had brought through the rift with him and Sam, Maria, was missing.

“Dean,” Rowena said, looking up at him, her expression solemn. “How’s Sam?”

“Not good,” Dean said. “Mom and Cas are with him.”

“And how are you?” Bobby asked.

“Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. I don’t even know properly myself. I’m still trying to process.”

Bobby nodded. “Come sit down. I’ll get you a drink.”

Dean took a seat at the end of the table and asked, “Where’s that Maria?”

“I gave her a room,” Bobby said, going to the sideboard and pouring him a drink. “I hope you don’t mind. She was dead on her feet, and she’s one of my people. We can move her into the motel tomorrow if you prefer.”

Dean didn’t much care where she stayed. He needed her now though. “Charlie, go wake her up,” he said. “I need to talk to her.”

Bobby started to protest, but Dean spoke over him.

“She’s the only one that has a chance of telling us what happened in that place, and we can’t help Sam until we know.”

Charlie slipped from the room and Bobby brought Dean a generous measure of whiskey. He sipped it, feeling it warm his throat and smooth the edges of his taut nerves. He wanted to slam it back, to get the relief quickly, but he needed his senses sharp for Sam, so he took another sip and set it down.

“Jack, what do you know about what happened there?” he asked. “What did you see?”

Jack looked almost afraid. “He was kept here,” he said. “In the bunker from that world.”

Dean felt a surge of fury. This place was supposed to be safety for them. What had Sam been through there that he would connect to their home now? Would he ever be comfortable here again? If they got him back, if he was Sam again, would he be able to bear being in the place that probably had horrific memories of what had happened to him?

“It was…” Jack looked into Dean’s eyes and he seemed to be imploring with him. “It was all Lucifer. He had Sam there and he hurt him. He was the one that opened the rift. He’s back now, with all those angels. I’m so sorry, Dean. I swear I thought he was different. I never would have defended him if I’d known…”

Dean wanted to be angry with the kid, but it really wasn’t his fault. Lucifer was the original manipulator and prince of lies. Jack was basically innocent still. He’d been easy prey for him. Perhaps if he’d know the full story of Lucifer’s crimes before he met him, he wouldn’t have allowed him a chance to speak at all.

And they’d all been wrong in their lives. Sam had been tricked by Ruby and that had almost led to the end of the world. Castiel had worked with Crowley and absorbed the souls that ultimately set the Leviathans loose on the world. The Men of Letters had manipulated Mary into working with them. Dean had been so sure of himself that he had taken the Mark of Cain and believed he could control it. He’d been tricked by Gadreel and that had gotten Kevin killed. Jack was even less to blame than them. All he’d done was have faith in the wrong person.

He held up a hand to stall Jack’s apologies and said, “It wasn’t your fault. Do you know what happened to Sam there?”

“There was a rack,” Jack said, tears welling in his eyes. “I think…”

“I need to know, Jack,” Dean said when he faltered.

“I think Sam was on there sometimes as there was a lot of blood underneath it, and Maria said Lucifer hurt him. When I got there, he was in the cage in the dungeon. I don’t know how long he’d been in there.”

Dean nodded and looked around as Charlie came into the room followed by a terrified looking Maria and Castiel.

“You mother wanted some time with Sam alone,” Castiel explained, pulling out a seat beside Jack and sitting down.

Maria was dressed in what looked like Charlie’s clothes, and she winced as Dean pointed to a chair and said, “Take a seat.”

She sat down and clasped her hands on the tabletop. Dean looked at her properly for the first time. He tagged her as in her fifties and she wore her hair in a ragged braid across her shoulder. Her eyes darted around the room as if expecting an attack at any moment, and when Dean spoke, she jerked.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked.

“Jack said you’re Sam’s brother and the other woman is his mother.”

“Yes,” Dean said. “We’re his family. And we need to know as much as you can tell us about what happened to Sam there and what Lucifer was doing.”

“What were _you_ doing there?” Castiel asked her.

“Lucifer said I was a prophet. The angels came and took me from The Northern Ice Fields and brought me to this place, or our version of it. Lucifer gave me a tablet and told me to find a spell to open a door to this world. I tried, but I couldn’t find it, and it was so hard to read. It hurt.”

“Yeah, tablets will give you a hell of a headache,” Kevin said, then in answer to her questioning look, he said, “Kevin Tran. I’m a prophet in this world. Or I was. Not sure how that works since I died and you’re here.”

She showed no signs of surprise at the fact he’d died, and Dean wondered what she already knew of resurrections.

“When I failed to find anything, Lucifer hurt Sam,” Maria said. “For every hour it took, he would hurt Sam more, and when I still hadn’t done it by the end of the day, he would kill him.” She wiped at her wet eyes. “He would always come back though. Lucifer brought him back from the Empty—at least that was what he called it. Does that mean Hell?”

Dean swallowed down the bile in his throat. Sam hadn’t only been tortured, he had been killed, too. He _had_ been in the Empty. But how did he get out? Billie said nothing came back from the Empty. Jack had been able to wake Castiel and make the Entity send him back, but he was more powerful than his father.

Dean looked at Castiel. “How did he get him back?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Castiel said. “The only way to leave that place is to be sent back by the Entity. I wouldn’t have expected Lucifer to be able to wake Sam.”

“The Entity…” Maria said as if something had stirred in her mind. “Lucifer mentioned him once when talking to Sam. He would talk to him all the time, even though Sam didn’t answer.”

“He must be very strong to reach that place,” Castiel said.  “Stronger than he was before.”

“But how?” Jack asked.

“Grace, perhaps,” Castiel said. “Sam said he had drained angels before saving him in the tunnel. Perhaps he continued after. And if he’s still doing it, he’ll be more powerful here, too.”

“I can still kill him,” Jack said. “It doesn’t matter how strong he is, I’ll win.”

Dean was surprised but pleased by the venom in his voice. He’d not given it much thought, he’d been consumed with Sam, but Jack had said he would kill Lucifer if he’d hurt Sam. Dean didn’t think he could have hurt him any more than he’d done, and he was glad Jack was sticking to his word. Lucifer needed to die painfully for what he had done.

“But you figured out the tablet, so did he leave Sam alone after?” Bobby asked. 

“I didn’t,” Maria said. “I tried so hard, but I never managed it. It was an angel that did it. Her name was Naomi, and she got it from him somehow. I didn’t see what she did as they took him away, but I heard him screaming. Sam never screamed that I could hear before that. I think Lucifer stole his voice, as I heard them talking one morning. Sam tried to tell me something, and Lucifer did this thing to him with his hand. His screams were silent, and he’d already shut down by the time Naomi came so he didn’t seem to feel the pain at all, but he made the most awful sounds when they took him away. I couldn’t bear it. I went to my room and covered my ears with the pillow, but I still heard it. He was in agony.”

Dean shuddered. It seemed Lucifer wasn’t the only one that had tortured Sam; Naomi had taken a turn, too. How she’d broken him when Lucifer hadn’t been able to, he didn’t know, but he thought it was a sign of the agony Sam must have been in. It was no wonder he was the way he was. No one could have hung on after going through that. 

As awful as the telling was, it gave Dean a tinge of hope. There was a good chance that this was a spiritual thing if Sam had been tortured as he had been in the Cage, and Castiel had been able to save him from that. Perhaps he would be able to again.

Jack buried his face in his shaking hands, as if he couldn’t even bear to be seen as the story was told. Dean thought he was harboring guilt for his faith in Lucifer, perhaps even blaming himself for not stopping him sooner.

Dean would have liked to blame him, too, but his blame was assigned to himself. If he’d made sure Sam went through the rift, he’d have been saved. He could have gotten through, too, even. Rowena would have closed it and Michael and Lucifer would have been trapped together. Sam would have been safe, and the world wouldn’t be at risk of destruction from two archangels.

Suddenly, Jack’s head snapped up and he looked at Castiel. “Do you hear that?”

“Yes,” Castiel said curtly. “Sam.”

He jumped to his feet and Dean rushed after him along the hall. He heard Mary’s voice, pleading with Sam to stop, to come back, and he jogged towards it to see Sam walking into the filing room that concealed the dungeon. He looked blank still, but he was moving purposefully, seeming to not even feel Mary trying to hold him back.

“Let him go, Mom,” Dean said. “You might hurt him.”

It would never be a risk usually, but Sam’s muscles were wasted, he was obviously putting all his strength into moving away from her, and if she carried on, he could be injured.

Mary stepped back, looking aghast, and Dean followed Sam into the filing room and then to the end of the room where the shelves stood open. Sam walked into the dungeon and then paused in the middle of the room.

“Sammy,” he said tentatively. “What are you doing?”

He heard a sharp breath behind him and Jack said, “I… I think he’s looking for the cage. This is where it was in the other world.”

Dean looked up at the ceiling and his mind filled with a vision of Sam, caged, hanging there, unable to even breathe without hurting himself as the cage moved. It had been an awful sight when he’d seen Mary in there with Jack’s help, but Sam was, had been, much bigger. He would have been even more constricted. The pain it must have caused him to be pressed against those spikes would have been awful.

He walked to Sam’s side and tugged gently on his arm, “Come on, Sammy. Let’s get out of here. That’s over. You don’t have to be in here anymore.” Sam didn’t move, and Dean turned desperate eyes on Castiel. “Help me.”

“I can’t move him without risking hurting him,” he said, looking as upset as Dean felt.

“Put him out,” Dean said. “He needs to sleep anyway, and I can’t handle him being in here another minute.”

Castiel came to Sam and placed a hand on his back and then pressed his fingers to Sam’s temple. Sam’s eyes fell closed and he dropped against Castiel’s supporting hand. Dean took him, noting the lack of weight. He’d struggled to carry Sam in the past when he’d needed to, but now he thought he could have carried him miles.

“Let’s get him back to his room,” Mary said.

Dean lifted Sam and said, “I’ll do it. Mom, get his bed ready,”

Mary rushed out of the room and Dean pulled Sam closer, trying not to concentrate on how wrong he felt in his arms, how familiar it felt from when he had carried Sam from that deserted town in South Dakota after he’d been killed.

He reminded himself that Sam wasn’t dead, just gone for a while, and they had a plan for him. He would have to talk it over with Castiel, to make sure he could do something, and then Castiel would be able to save him.

Sam would come back.  


	15. Chapter 15

When Sam was settled in his bed, sleeping, Dean asked Castiel to stay with him and then led Mary out of the room to the hall so they could talk. She looked tensely at the closed door, and Dean knew she wanted to be in there, but Dean wanted to make this easier on her by not having her need to look at the damage to Sam as he told her how it had come about.

“I spoke with Maria,” he said. “The woman Jack brought out with Sam. She’s a prophet that Lucifer was trying to use to get the spell for the rift.”

“Is that how he did it?” she asked.

“No. He had her reading the tablets, but she wasn’t able to find the spell. He got the information from Sam somehow.” He didn’t think he needed to tell her how painful of a process it had apparently been for Sam. “But she told us a little of what happened to Sam while Lucifer had him.”

“It was Lucifer then?” she asked. “He made him like… this?”

“Yeah. Jack told me. He’s tying himself up in knots about it.”

“Of course,” she said. “I know how he feels.”

“You did nothing wrong, Mom.”

“Didn’t I? I was the one that kept saying he was alive. I wanted it so much. What if I somehow made it happen?”

“No!” Dean said firmly. “It was Lucifer that did this to him. No one else it to blame.”

“What _did_ Lucifer do?” she asked.

Dean hesitated. “Do you really want to know? Once you’ve heard it, you can’t forget it. It’s going to give you the same nightmares it gave me after last time.”

“I need to know. I’m his mother.”

Dean nodded, understanding how she felt. There was responsibility to being family. Sometimes you had to do things you didn’t want to do, hear things you didn’t want to hear.  

“He _was_ tortured, but it didn’t end there. Lucifer would kill him, too.”

“He killed him!”

“Yes. Maria said that at the end of each day she failed to find the spell, Lucifer would kill him. I don’t know how long she was there, not getting what he needed, but even one time would have been too much. Sam went to the Empty every time. I only know what Cas told me about the place, but it can’t have been much better for him there than with Lucifer.”

Mary looked away from him, and Dean saw that her eyes were wet.

“I thought maybe Sam was in shock,” she said. “But this is so much worse than that.”

Dean nodded. “It’s not the same as he was before, he was still aware of us then, but toward the end it was a little like this.”

“He was dying then,” she said. “You told me. Do you think he’s dying now?”

Dean flinched. “I don’t know. I sure as hell hope not. We’ve got to get some food into him, or it’s a real possibility if he stays like this. Me and Castiel might have something we can do about that, though. We think we might have a way to get him back. We told you about how Castiel was able to shift the experience, to save him, right?”

She nodded. “Can he do that again?”

“We think so. It’s going to be rough on Cas; he was in a coma for a long time when he did it before, and when he woke up, he wasn’t himself. It took him being zapped to Purgatory to break through it and make him Cas again.  But he’s willing to do it.”

“Of course he is,” she said fondly. “What do I have to do?”

“There’s nothing that either of us can do apart from take care of him when it’s over. The rest is down to him.” He sighed. “I guess I needed someone else to tell me I’m doing the right thing. Me and Castiel don’t always make the best decisions.”

“Could it hurt Sam?” she asked.

“It looked like the process was painful last time, but it didn’t last long, and he was so much better after.”

“Then we have to do it if Castiel is willing. He’ll suffer, I know what, but he’ll live. We can’t be sure Sam will without help. He’s so closed down now that he won’t even register us, let alone eat. What if he gives up completely?”

Dean hadn’t considered that, and the possibility was like a lead weight in his gut. It would make sense. It took more than food and oxygen to keep someone alive. What if Sam decided it was too much? That was if he was ever capable of making a decision like that. His body could break down on its own. He needed the will to live and he seemed to have no will for anything now.

“We’ll fix it,” he said, unable to comfort himself but trying to comfort her.

“We have to,” she said. “Can we do it now?”

“If Cas says he’s ready, then yeah. I don’t think there’s any point waiting.”

He opened the door again and gestured Mary in ahead of him. Castiel was sitting beside the bed, watching them as they entered.

“Cas…” Dean started awkwardly, not wanting to seem like he was in a hurry to lose his friend. “I told Mom what you can do for Sam.”

“I could hear you,” he said with a small smile. “I don’t think there’s any point waiting either.”

Dean felt immediately guilty as he thought of how those words could have been misconstrued. He hadn’t meant that he was in a rush to lose Castiel, he was his best friend, but he wanted to save his brother, even more so now Mary had planted the seed of doubt that he might not live at all if they didn’t.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly. “You know I wouldn’t ask you to go through this if we didn’t have to.”

Castiel held up a hand to cut him off. “I know, Dean. I don’t underestimate how you feel asking me for this. But it’s the only way we can do this without waiting for him to come back himself from this trauma. I don’t even know if he can. And Mary is right. A person needs something to live for. I can’t save Sam if he dies.”

Dean swallowed hard. “I know.”

“I have one request,” Castiel said. “When it’s over, when I am gone, I would like to stay here. I won’t need anything but a bed; my body can sustain without any other assistance. And I know it probably seems silly, as I won’t be aware of anything, but I would prefer to be kept somewhere familiar.”

“It’s not even a question, Castiel,” Mary said. “Of course you’re staying here. We’ll take care of you. You won’t be alone.”

Castiel smiled. “I won’t need company, but I appreciate the sentiment.” He got to his feet and moved closer to the bed. “Make sure he understands I did this because I wanted to. Don’t let him feel guilty.”

“I’ll try,” Dean said. “But…”

“But it’s Sam,” Castiel finished for him. “I know. Do your best. I have no regrets about what’s going to happen next at all, apart from the fact he might suffer guilt because of it.”

“We’ll do whatever we can,” Mary promised.

Castiel nodded and reached for Sam. He placed his hand on Sam’s forehead and looked concentrated. Sam’s eyes flew open and they glowed red, just as Dean remembered they had before, but he made no sound, not even a whimper. Castiel grunted and his eyes squeezed shut, but the next thing Dean was expecting didn’t come. He remembered the red light that had moved from Sam, up Castiel’s arm as he absorbed what Sam was feeling, but the light stayed in Sam.

Castiel pulled his hand back and shook his head.

“Was that it?” Mary asked. “It is done?”

“No,” Castiel said. “There is something wrong.” He touched Sam again, and Dean saw the strain on his face as Sam’s eyes glowed red. He wavered, and Dean rushed forward to support him. He was looking for the lightshow, but it still didn’t come. Castiel fell back against Dean, his hand leaving Sam, and Sam’s eyes fell closed and his breaths slowed almost at once.

Mary pushed the chair under Castiel and Dean eased him down. Castiel put his head in his hands and just breathed harshly for a moment, as if trying to get through pain.

“Cas?” Dean said tentatively.

Castiel shook his head and straightened up. “I can’t do it.”

Dean’s heart sank, and Mary made a small, pained sound. 

“Why not?” she asked.

Castiel drew a deep breath and said, “It’s not the same as before. This isn’t something that’s happening to Sam now; it’s something that happened before that has become entrenched in him. There is nothing to shift as it is a part of him, a part of his soul. It _is_ Sam. Taking it away would be to remove his soul.”

“Is that an option?” Mary asked.

“No!” Dean said harshly, then softened his voice. “You don’t understand what he was like.”

“But he was alive! You said giving him back his soul was a mistake. Surely letting him keep it now is just as bad.”

Dean hated that her words were making sense to him, tempting him. He would not have his brother back the way he needed, but he would have a version of him. Would that be enough? Sam would be alive…

“I can’t do it anyway,” Castiel said. “It would take a being much stronger than I am to take a soul. I can return them to bodies, but not take them away without killing them. Even a reaper wouldn’t be able to.”

“Abaddon did it,” Dean said, remembering. “When she was trying to make her army, she was taking souls from people, leaving them running around.”

“I am not a Knight of Hell,” Castiel said. “The only being I can think of that has the power and is still accessible to us is Death.”

“Billie,” Mary said quietly. “We can find her again.”

Dean looked away. He didn’t want to do this, to see Sam as that soulless thing again, but he wanted Sam alive, even if it was a version that didn’t love him.

“Dean?” Mary prompted.

“I don’t know,” Dean said carefully. “What do you think, Cas?”

“I think it’s a dire possibility, but it may be the only one that will keep him alive. I can’t make this decision for you, it’s up to you both, but you need to understand just what you’re thinking, Mary. Sam will not love you. He will see you only as a means to an end to get what he wants. He will have no conscience. He will kill as easily as he will save. He will be the antithesis of the son you love.”

“But he’ll be alive,” she said again.

Dean knew she wasn’t taking in what Castiel was saying properly. All she could focus on was that Sam would be alive. Dean understood it, but he knew what it would really mean. He needed to weigh up the cost of losing Sam altogether, knowing he would never have peace even in Heaven with his corrupted soul, or having him be there but a different person.

“I don’t know,” he said. “This is too much.”

“I do know,” Mary said. “If we wait too long, he’ll die, and we won’t have anything of him. And he’ll never be at peace with what Lucifer did to him as a part of his soul. If we take his soul, he might not care about us, but we’ll still love him. We can stop him hurting other people.”

“You might not be able to,” Castiel warned. “He’ll be cunning. He almost killed Bobby last time, and he would have killed Dean just as easily if Dean hadn’t overpowered him first.”

“There are more of us than him. We have Jack. We can control him. Dean, he’ll live,” she said passionately.

Dean nodded in spite of himself, his decision made. “He will.”

Castiel sighed. “If you are sure this is what you want, I will do what I can to help.”

“How do we find her?” Mary asked. “How did you get her when you and Sam were in that prison?”

“I just called her,” Dean said. “I think she’ll be listening again.”

He took a long look at Sam where he slept, looking more peaceful now than he did awake, despite his gaunt cheeks, and then said, “Billie, it’s Dean Winchester. I need to talk to you. I need your help.”

There was nothing for a moment and then an amused voice spoke from the doorway. “I assumed that much when you called me. Why else would a Winchester call unless they wanted something again.” She stepped closer into the room and looked down at Sam. “Lucifer has been busy.”

“Busy?” Mary snapped. “You see what he’s done to my son and that’s all you have to say? You knew this was happening, didn’t you? You could have stopped it!”

Billie narrowed her eyes at Mary, and Dean stepped instinctively closer to her and put his hand on her arm.

“I didn’t _know_ ,” she said. “I suspected. I knew Sam was alive and with Lucifer, and I knew enough of Lucifer and Sam’s history to realize that it wouldn’t be a pleasant experience for your son _._ It wasn’t my problem though. I have far bigger concerns than the wellbeing of a Winchester.”

The door flew open and Jack rushed in. “I thought I felt… Death,” he finished quietly, catching sight of Billie. “Have you found Michael?”

“No,” she said with a small frown. “The race is still on. I am here because I was called. I don’t know why though. If you think I can create another wall, you’re wrong.”

“The components of that were crushed to dust,” Castiel said.

“Yes, by you,” Billie said knowingly. “I imagine you’re regretting that choice now.”

“I’ve regretted it for a very long time,” Castiel said seriously. “But that’s not why we called you.”

“Why did you?” Billie asked, fixing her eyes on Dean.

“Sam is broken,” he said. “What Lucifer did to him has become a part of his soul. Castiel can’t take it away. I need you to do it.”

“I have no interest in removing trauma, even if I could. I think you know that. There was a reason a wall was built rather than a soul healed. It’s not possible.”

“We do know that,” Dean said. “But the damage is consuming his soul this time, it’s a part of him, not an experience as a result of what happened. I need you to take his soul.”

Jack gasped “What? No!”

Dean ignored him and watching Billie as she raised an eyebrow and said, “I know enough about the exploits of your brother last time he was sans soul to doubt you really mean that.”

“I do,” Dean said. “We do. If he goes on like this, it’s probably going to kill him. Even if it doesn’t, he’ll never have peace again.”

“True,” Billie said. “The damage is quite remarkable. I am not inclined to do what you’re asking though. I told you I have a better understanding of your place in the universe now, but it is not your physical body that has potential. It is your soul. Sam’s is useless to me and the grand scheme now. If you want him put out of his misery, I can do that.”

“You mean kill him?” Jack asked, sounding horrified.

“Yes. There is nothing else I can or will do. I am doing you a service offering to end him, to save one of you the job or all of you the pain of watching him waste away.”

“We don’t want you to kill him,” Mary said.

“No? You’d rather watch him waste away or do it yourself? I have studied Sam Winchester’s deaths recently, and I know that both are an option. Incidentally, it would be you, Dean, with a well-placed bullet.”

Dean felt the shocked eyes of everyone on him, and he spoke through his teeth. “That will _never_ happen.”

“Then it will be one of the endless other options. Or perhaps…” She smiled slyly. “Maybe there will be yet another Winchester miracle. I truly don’t know either way. I am not completely omniscient.”

“But there’s a chance we can do this?” Mary asked. “We can fix him?”

“Fix him? No. Bring him back to some semblance of life? Yes. It’s possible.”

“How?” Dean asked.

“You can’t skip to the ending, Dean. You have to work your way there the hard way. I will give you a hint, though. What you see now isn’t just the trauma. This is a choice.”

“Sam did this to himself?” Mary asked, aghast.

“Wouldn’t you?” Billie asked in return. “If it was this or yet more days of Lucifer, which would you choose?”

Dean knew what he would choose. He’d chosen to give up a part of himself and torture souls in the pit rather that suffer more himself. It would have been an even easier choice for Sam. By shutting himself down he wasn’t hurting anyone else. He’d not known they would get him back.

“If I were you, I would concentrate on finding what Sam sees if you’re going to find a way to make him see you.” Billie brushed a hand down her front. “I have spent enough time in this subterranean funeral wake for a lifetime, so I am going. I will see you at the finish line.”

She disappeared, and Dean put his arm around Mary who was shaking. “It’s not over, Mom,” he said. “We might be able to get him back a little of the way. He doesn’t have to die.”

Mary nodded and wiped a hand over her face, smearing her tears. “I know.”

“This is good news even,” Castiel said. “We have something to work for now.”

“Where do we start though?” Mary asked. “This is so much. How do we find what’s he’s seeing?”

Castiel smiled at her. “We start where we always do, at the beginning. If Billie says there is a way, there must be. We just have to find it.”

Dean hugged his mother to his side and looked down at his brother. They might get something of him back, they could save his life, but what kind of life would it be? If there was nothing Billie could do for his soul, there was nothing anyone could do. Which meant, no matter how it ended, Sam wasn’t ever going to have true peace.  

xXx

Lucifer was concerned.

He had been elated to get back to his world at first, and that had made him overlook the little details, but he was starting to notice them now.

Not all of the angels were with him.

It was Naomi’s absence he noticed at first, as he had plans for her, be it death or promotion, but she never returned to him after Stull. He supposed she could have decided to strike out on her own, as she was an independent and powerful angel that had already shown that she wasn’t willing to toe the line, but there was a possibility she was taking other angels with her, too, and Lucifer couldn’t have that. He had noticed fewer faces around him, fewer voices on angel radio that spoke to him. He still had hundreds on his side, but the fear Naomi might have gone to Michael and taken some of Lucifer’s number with her needled at him.

He wanted Jack, too. He knew it wasn’t time to go to him just yet, he needed something to show he was on the side of good. That would be a challenge, Lucifer knew, because he really wasn’t, but he had an idea. He thought he could serve two purposes at once. He wanted as many in his ranks as he could get, and Hell needed guidance. He was going to unite two armies—his angels and his own creations, the demons—and show Jack how he was serving the world by doing it. If his angels, that had helped to destroy a world by fighting demons, could work with them at Lucifer’s command, Jack would have to see just how good he was. He was saving this world by doing it. And once he had his son, he would ease him into the whole world renovations thing slowly.

To reach that point, he needed demons though, so he made his way to Needham Asylum were the oaf Crowley had held his court. Even after his death, demons had congregated there, and Lucifer was pleased that he felt the presence of many when he opened the large front doors of the place and strode in, calling, “Daddy’s home!”

The door to the throne room opened and a demon peered out. It was comical the way her eyes bugged at the fight of him and she hunched over slightly, as if not sure whether a bow would be welcome or not.

“Lucifer,” she said breathily.

It wasn’t a demon Lucifer recognized from his time in charge here, so he assumed it was her first introduction to him. They were always a little nervous at first.

He strode forward and stopped outside the door. “Move.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, quickly backing away and holding the door open for him.

He passed through and took in the other ten demons dotted around the room, watching him warily. The throne was left empty, though Lucifer wondered if that was because no one had set themselves up as the new king since Asmodeus’ demise or because they didn’t want him to think they had.

Lucifer settled himself in it with his legs stretched comfortably and said, “Who’s in charge here?”

“You are, Sir,” a man in a grey suit said.

“See, ordinarily that would be the right answer,” Lucifer said. “But I need a mouthpiece to get a message out to demonkind, so I want to know who thinks they’re boss right now.”

“No one.”

Lucifer looked at the demon that had spoken. “Really? Why not? And don’t give me that ‘because you’re our true leader’ crap. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Because no one wanted the mortality rate,” she replied. “With the Winchesters and you to oppose, no one was willing to take the job.”

Lucifer nodded thoughtfully and pointed at the demon in the grey suit. He had a go-getter look about him, and Lucifer thought he would be good enough for what he needed. “You,” he said. “Name?”

“Kipling. Kip to my friends.”

Lucifer doubted they were ever going to be friends, but he made his face ingratiating and said. “Well, Kip, I’ve got a job for you to do. You might have noticed the sudden influx of angels. I’ve been to another world on a short sabbatical, and I brought an army back with me.”

“You did?” Kipling look a little worried.

“Yes, and I have a job for them to do, just as I do for you and the rest of the demons. I want a gathering of you and my other army. Come to…” He considered a moment and thought of a place that had served him well enough before. “Stull, Kansas. There’s a cemetery there. Tell every earthbound demon, crossroads’ included, to come and I will arrange for the angels to meet us.”

Kipling cleared his throat. “Won’t that become a bloodbath, Sir?”

“Not unless you all want to me to smite you. I know there must be a lot of angel blades lying around since the numbers here seem to have dipped quite considerably, but if I see one in the hands of a demon, I will not be happy. We’re just going to talk. I’ll make sure the angels know it, too.”

“It would be better if we could bring _all_ demonkind,” Kip said. “There are many of us on earth, but there’s a legion in Hell that have no means of escape but clawing their way out alone.”

Lucifer considered. It was true that more numbers would work in his favor, but it wasn’t like he could open a hell gate without a key, and Dagon had destroyed the Colt. Jack could probably do it, but he would need persuasion, careful manipulation, before he’d be ready for that.

“I’ll think about it,” Lucifer said. “For now I just want who’s already here.” He clapped his hands. “You’ve got a day. Spread the word. I will be in Stull cemetery at noon and you will all be there. Understand?”

Kipling nodded slowly. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” Lucifer said, getting to his feet. “I’ll see you there.”

He didn’t bother to use the door this time as it had only been a dramatic entrance he’d needed. He spread his wings and took flight, this time to summon the angels.

He was having the world’s first ever demon/angel team meeting, and he wanted them all there when he created history by uniting them. This was his moment, and soon it would be Jack’s. He would have his son at his side, and then they could deal with Michael.


	16. Chapter 16

Dean startled awake with a crick in his neck and his legs stiff from not moving. He was in Sam’s room still, and he’d evidently fallen asleep on the chair beside the bed. It took only a moment of post-waking confusion for him to realize what was wrong with the scene. Sam and Castiel were gone.

He quickly got to his feet and staggered slightly as the blood rushed back into his legs. He gave himself a chance to steady himself before rushing out of the room. He could tell it was late as the lights in the hall were dimmed. He walked unerringly to the dungeon, sure that was where he was going to find them; his surety was confirmed when he heard Castiel’s voice.

“Have you seen enough now, Sam? Do you see that it’s not here? You will never be in that cage again. That’s over. You’re with us again. Come back to your bed. You need to rest.”

Dean walked into the dungeon and saw Sam standing in the middle of the room and Castiel facing him.

Castiel gave Dean a helpless look and said, “I didn’t want to wake you since you were finally resting.”

“How long’s he been in here?” he asked.

“Not long. He woke up and came straight here. I don’t want to put him out again as I think his body needs to get used to resting on its own again. I’m trying to reach him without that.” He tugged on Sam’s hand. “Come on, Sam. You don’t need to be here.”  

Dean walked around and stood in front of Sam. “Hey, Sammy. You’ve got to stop doing this.” Sam stared straight ahead, blinking slowly, and Dean spoke brightly. “Rise and shine, Sammy. We’ve got to get–”

He broke off as something changed in Sam’s eyes. For a moment, Dean thought Sam was actually seeing him. His pupils dilated and his steady breaths caught, but then he exhaled and the shutters came back down and he became closed off again.

“Did you see that, Cas?” Dean asked excitedly. “It was in his eyes. He saw me for a moment.”

“I saw,” Castiel said. “This is good. He _is_ still there. We just need to reach him.”

Indifferent to their conversation, Sam turned around and walked out of the dungeon. Dean hoped that he had more than been seen, he’d been heard, too, but when outside Sam took a right and walked towards the library.

He cursed.

“It’s okay,” Castiel said. “He’s not in danger. He’s just doing what he thinks he needs to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I might be wrong, but I think he’s looking for the rack now. He came to the dungeon and his cage before, now he’s looking for the other place he was kept. Jack told us it was in the library. I think something you said reached him.”

Dean tried to recall the exact words he’d used. “Rise and shine?”

“Yes. I think perhaps it was said to him in the other world, too. You saw his reaction. It reached him and moved him on to the next step.”

Now Dean saw what the reaction had been. It wasn’t just awareness. “He was scared. When I said it, he was afraid.” He felt like he was choking on the word. He was sickened with himself for unconsciously replicating a step of what Lucifer would do to Sam.

“If that was a step that came before his time on the rack, he would be,” Castiel pointed out.

Sam walked into the library and Dean and Castiel followed him. Dean was relieved that it was late enough for no one to be there, as he didn’t want other people seeing Sam like this.

He walked to the space between two bookshelves and stopped.

“You’re right, Cas. He’s looking for it.” He felt sickened by what he had done.

Castiel walked to Sam and touched his arm. “It’s not here, Sam. That is over. Lucifer doesn’t have you anymore. You’re with us. Let us take you back to bed. You’ll be more comfortable.”

Sam stood another moment looking around him, searching for the thing that would never be there again, and then turned away and started walking.

“That’s good, Sammy,” he said. “Come with us.”

He led Sam by the arm to his bedroom, letting him get there in his own time, not rushing, as he knew Sam’s stamina was something else that was going to be greatly depleted if his life with Lucifer had been split solely between the rack and the cage.

When they reached the bedroom, Dean guided Sam to lay down and then covered him with the blankets.

“Can you sleep, Sammy?” he asked.

Sam didn’t react, but Dean thought he looked tired still and would perhaps sleep on his own now.

Despite the fact it had been fear that he had caused, Dean was relieved to have seen an emotion in Sam. It meant he really was aware of them, even if only peripherally. He was in there still. His trauma hadn’t deafened and blinded him.

“We need to get into his head,” Dean said. “Find out what he’s thinking and work out a way to reach him again. I don’t want to keep scaring him the way I did, but maybe there is something else.”

Castiel considered for a long moment but shook his head. “There is nothing I can do without risk. If we had an archangel we could read his mind, but I can only read the minds of another angel without hurting him. Or I can only strip something from a mind as I did with Donatello.”

“Leaving him braindead,” Dean said. “No thanks.”

“I would _never_ even try it _,”_ Castiel said emphatically.

“Yeah, I know that,” Dean said. “Sorry. I’m just… I’m really struggling here, Cas.”

The fact he was even able to admit it openly surprised Dean; he hadn’t intended to. He was struggling—he felt like he was drowning—but he could usually conceal it well enough to deceive everyone—apart from Sam.

“I understand,” Castiel said. “I feel the same. I think we can do something though. Billie gave us that hint for a reason. I believe she could help more than she has, but I don’t expect her to change her mind. I did kill her once, and you killed her predecessor.”

“Kinda regretting that right now. He came through for us before, even though it was at a price.”

“We can do this. We just need to reach his mind. We need a mind reader.”

“Perfect,” Dean said. “Apart from the fact the only mind reader I’ve ever know was killed by a wraith.”

“There must be another. What about Missouri’s granddaughter?”

“Patience? She never mentioned hearing thoughts,” Dean said, but he felt a kindling of something in his stomach. She had inherited her grandmother’s visions. Was it possible she might have inherited something else, too?

“Do you think she will come here?” Castiel asked. “I can sense latent gifts in humans. If I saw her, I would know if she had the potential.”

“She’ll come,” Dean said decisively. She had helped them before, and if Jody knew what had happened to Sam, she would find a way to persuade her to come. “I’ll call.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Dean,” Castiel cautioned.

“Jody won’t mind.” He knew it. She had gone to the mat for them. She wouldn’t mind a call in the early hours.

He took his phone from Sam’s dresser where he’d left it and hit the speed dial assigned to Jody. It seemed to ring a long time, and he tapped his foot impatiently until Jody answered, her voice sleep-clouded.

_“Dean? What’s wrong?”_

“It’s Sam,” he said, his eyes on his brother. “He needs help.”

 _“I’m coming,”_ she said without hesitation.

“Thank you, Jody,” he said fervently. “But we need Patience.”

_“What’s going on?”_

Dean took a breath and started to explain.

xXx

Mary was sitting silently in the library with Bobby, Charlie and Jack. She had left Dean to clean Sam up and change him into clean clothes. She was aware that they probably didn’t need to do it yet, but Dean seemed to need something to do for him while they waited for Jody and Patience to come.

Dean had told her a little about Patience and what they were hoping for from her, but he didn’t seem particularly confident it would work. Apparently—even if Castiel sensed something—she was untested and this might all be a waste of time.

Mary felt useless. All she could do was watch Sam with Castiel while Dean took bathroom breaks or an incredibly short shower, and she was no use there for Sam. All she did was watch him, waiting for a change and getting nothing.  She had gone to her own bed the night before, but she’d gotten little sleep. Her mind turned over with thoughts of Sam’s condition, what he had been through and what she feared would happen to Dean because of it. He’d made a demon deal once to save Sam, and though she knew that wouldn’t work this time, she wondered what other lengths he would go to for his brother.

“What do you think, Mary?”

She started and looked up see Bobby looking at her expectantly. It was him that had spoken.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t hear what you said.”

“Michael,” Bobby prompted. “Lucifer opened that rift and brought the angels though, but do you think Michael went the other way?”

“No. Billie said the race is still on. She’d know if he had gone back to his world. And why would he leave? His angels are here now, probably all of them. I don’t see him going to that world alone if there’s only humans and monsters waiting for him.”

“He’ll be making plans for this world now,” Jack said confidently. “We have to find him.”

“I’m looking,” Charlie said.

“Why do we have to find him?” Mary asked. “We have Sam back now. Why don’t we leave him to Billie?”

“Because I need to kill him,” Jack said, a bite to his tone.

“I get that,” Mary said gently. “But we have bigger problems. We need to concentrate on Sam and Lucifer.”

“One man’s need doesn’t overpower a whole world’s,” Bobby said gruffly. “Would Sam want you giving up on everything else because of him?”

“I’m not giving up. I am just saying we have a lot to deal with already. There is already someone searching for Michael. Jack should be focused on Lucifer.”

“Because he’s the bigger threat or because you want revenge?” Bobby asked. “Sam isn’t more important than anyone else at risk from those archangels.”

Mary glared at him. “He is to me.”

Bobby shook his head, his brow creased.

“You don’t understand!” she snapped.

Sam mattered more because he was hers. She wasn’t saying quit the fight, they could stop Lucifer, but Billie was eager to stop Michael, too. They should spread the workload out, use their allies. Though she wasn’t sure Billie counted as an ally.

“I’ve lost people, too,” Bobby said stiffly. “Every single one of us has. We don’t let that overpower the fact we’re still here and have work to do. Sam’s in a mess, I know that and I sympathize, but we need you, Dean, and Castiel with us if we’re going to win. You say they have a history of saving the world, and I’ve seen what you can do, too.”

“Jack,” Mary said imploringly, knowing that if anyone there understood, it would be him. “Tell him.”

Jack looked into her eyes, his expression sad, and said, “You need Sam as much as you need Dean and Cas, Bobby. I don’t know their full story, but I know they’re a team. Mary said they’re working on a plan to save Sam, someone’s coming, so we’ve got to hope that works so that we have them all.”

“And you’re not just saying that because you’re worried about one of your dads?” There was a touch of sarcasm in Bobby’s voice.

Jack’s face darkened. “Sam is my dad, just like Dean and Cas are,” he said angrily. “They’re the ones that trusted me and took care of me. Sam was the one that understood how I felt. He’s the one that helped me train my powers at first. If I hadn’t had him, I wouldn’t have known what to do. I never met my mother. Castiel was dead when I was born; Sam was the first person to make me see I could be good. He _is_ important, and I am going to do what I can to save him. I’ll kill Michael and Lucifer, but I’ll help Sam, too.”

Bobby shook his head, looking annoyed. “You’re all going through something, I get that, but your priorities are out of order.”

“You would say that,” Mary said. “He’s not yours.”

Sam was her son, the baby she’d never had a chance to see grow even into a toddler. He had been taken away from her by the evil things Lucifer had done to him, and Bobby expected her to set that aside to work the case. She knew there was more at stake than her family, but Sam was who worried her most. And that was how it should be. She was his mother. She’d had her priorities so wrong after being brought back. She had them in order now.

Bobby looked like he wanted to make a retort, but Dean came into the room, grim-faced and worried, and Bobby addressed him. “Dean, we need to talk about Michael.”

Dean gave him a distracted look and nodded. “Yeah. Later. Mom, I need you to do something for me. We can’t get Sam to even drink water, so we’ve got to get him help. I don’t want him in a hospital if Patience is coming, so we need you to make a run by the hospital and get some stuff.”

“Of course,” she said eagerly, glad to finally have something to do that could help. “What do you need?”

Dean took a pad of paper and pen from the shelf and leaned over the table to scribble on it. He held it out to her and said. “That’s the best we can get. He needs proper nutrition, but we can’t do that without a proper line in. All I can do is set up a regular IV. “

She took the paper and read the list of items. “I’ll go now.”

“I’ll come,” Charlie said. “I can create a distraction while you get what you need.”

“I’m with you,” Bobby said.

Mary frowned. “Why? I thought our priorities were wrong?“

“Because, way I see it, helping Sam is the only way to get you back to the important stuff.” 

Mary glanced at Dean, wanting to see his reaction to Bobby’s unfeeling words, but he was already walking out of the room. He didn’t even seem to have heard.

She was glad. She didn’t think the best way to make Bobby see they were on the same side was Dean slugging him.

xXx

Mary drove them to the hospital, and though Charlie and Bobby spoke, she stayed silent. She was annoyed with Bobby and didn’t want to engage with the man that wasn’t even trying to understand what they were going through.

When they pulled into a spot in the parking lot, she climbed out first and walked quickly to the ER entrance, hooking her empty backpack over her shoulder.

Charlie jogged up beside her and said, “We need to arrive together if I’m going to be the patient. Bobby and I think stomach pains will work best.”

“Fine.”

Mary slowed until Bobby caught up with them and set a fast pace through the sliding doors into the bustling room. They walked to the intake desk and Charlie clasped her arms around her middle.

“We need help,” Bobby said. “My daughter is having stomach pains.”

“Name?”

“Charlie Bradbury.”

The young man behind the desk tapped something into his computer then handed over a clipboard of forms and said, “Take a seat and fill these out. Someone will come out to get you when they can.”

Mary took the forms and led them over to seats in the corner. Bobby wandered away to look at a noticeboard of posters advertising hospital facilities and giving information of various signs of illnesses.

Charlie sat down beside her and said, “Don’t let Bobby get to you. He doesn’t mean to be cruel, but he lived that war a long time, and he had to get used to losing people fast. We all did. For some of us it made us more determined to hold on to the people we had left. For others it made them close down so it wasn’t so hard when they lost the next person.”

“You held on to them,” Mary said.

“I lost most of the important people in my life before the war started,” she said. “The only family I had left was my mom, and she was in a hospital in a bad way after an accident. I’d not been able to speak to her since I was twelve. She was killed when a battalion of angels stormed the hospital and killed everyone there for aiding our troops. I had Kara, too, but she was killed in the early days of the war when people were really going crazy. I had no one left without her until I found the resistance. I suddenly had people I cared about again, like a family, and I fought hard to keep them. Bobby was the opposite. I doesn’t mean he didn’t care about us, he did, but he expected us to die any day, so he was better at dealing when it happened. He wouldn’t let one loss make him lose the war.”

“I’m not letting that happen though,” Mary said. “I still want us to fight. I just want to help my son, too.”

“But if it was a choice, if it was killing Michael or saving Sam, which would you choose?”

“I would leave Billie to do it,” Mary said.

“Say Billie couldn’t do it, only giving up Sam could, what would you do?”

Mary looked away. She didn’t want to lose her son, but she didn’t want to lose the world either. She thought she would have to judge it by what Sam would want, and he would save the world, even though it would destroy her to lose him.

“Exactly,” Charlie said. “The fact you can’t answer that question without hesitation is what Bobby can’t understand. The war took that ability away from him.” She patted Mary’s arm. “I’m sorry about Sam. He was brave to come save me and Ketch, and he seemed like a nice guy. I could tell he really cared about this world’s version of me.”

“He _is_ a nice person!” Mary said sharply. “He’s not dead.”

“I know,” Charlie said gently.

Mary heard what she didn’t say though: he wasn’t dead _yet_. Jack had told the others about Sam, and Bobby had seen it for himself. It had been discussed, and they’d drawn their own conclusions. Mary had feared the same thing herself, to the extent that she had been willing to take Sam’s soul to save him, but Billie had given her hope. They couldn’t fix him, but they could have some part of him back. If they found a way to help him, Sam would live.

“Charlie Bradbury?” a voice called from the doorway.

Charlie quickly clutched her stomach and raised a weak arm. “Here?”

A woman in green scrubs came to them and said, “Do you need a wheelchair?”

“No,” Charlie said in a moan. “I can walk.”

The woman led them towards the doors, and Bobby walked beside Charlie, “Take it easy, kid. We need a way to the supplies, not for you to end up in ICU right off the bat.”

Charlie straightened up and said, “Sorry,” under her breath.

The woman that had come for them held open a door and gestured them to a curtained cubicle on the other side of the room. “Make yourself comfortable. A doctor will be with you soon.”

Mary’s eyes darted around the room, searching for a sign of a supply closet, but the doors off of the large area had numbers not labels for what they contained. She spotted a door opening and a man in scrubs coming out with an armful of supplies, including an IV bag.

“You’re up, Charlie,” Mary muttered. 

Charlie gasped and dropped to the floor with her hands on her stomach. “It hurts!” she said loudly. “Oh, God, it hurts.”

Bobby dropped down beside her as people flooded over to them, questioning Charlie and insisting that Bobby give them space.

“She’s my daughter!” Bobby said angrily. “Help her!”

“We’re trying, sir,” a man said.

In the chaos of Charlie’s pain cries and Bobby’s protests, Mary darted away and through the door she’d seen the man coming out of.

She saw at once that it was the right place. There were cabinets, shelves, and blue crates of equipment and supplies. She saw IV cannulas in small boxes on a shelf, sorted by color and she grabbed them from each box, not sure of the difference but wanting to have the right ones. When there was enough, she turned her attention to looking for IV bags. She knew what she needed from Dean’s list, most importantly glucose, saline and something he called a banana bag that he’d said would be yellow.

She saw the shelves of bags, and rushed over, aware that someone could interrupt her at any minute. She would knock them out before they had a chance to stop her, but she would rather not need to.

She spotted the yellow tinged bags of fluid and began to stuff them into her backpack, then reached for ones marked glucose. These where different though. They had numbers on them, percentages, and Dean hadn’t told her what kind they needed. She found the ones with the highest percentage and grabbed at them, thinking more was better than not enough. The saline was easier as it had no numbers on it. She stuffed them into her bag until it was bulging then zipped it closed and snuck out of the room into the chaos that still reigned around Charlie who was now in a cubicle, laid out on a bed and making a great deal of noise.

No one seemed to have noticed Mary, and she joined Bobby at Charlie’s bedside and said, “Where does it hurt, sweetie?”

Charlie looked at her and Mary nodded. With rapidity that made the staff around the bed step back, looking concerned, Charlie sat up and said, “I feel much better now. I think I just needed to lie down a while.”

“That will be the painkillers,” a white-coated doctor said. “You need to lie down and let me examine you.”

“I’m really fine,” Charlie said brightly, slipping off the bed and walking towards Mary. “Let’s go home.”

There was annoyed muttering and the doctor said, “Using hospitals to seek drugs is a waste of our time and your life. The time spent with you could be spent with people that really need us.”

“That’s not what this is,” Charlie said brightly.

“I can give you details of drug addiction services for your daughter,” he said to Bobby.

“No need,” Bobby said. “Now we know what’s going on we’ll take better care with her. We’re sorry for wasting your time.”

He took Charlie’s elbow and led her to the door. Mary followed them, frowning as Charlie waved at the people they were passing.

“You can take it down a notch now,” she said.

“She probably can’t,” Bobby said. “They gave her OxyContin.”

Charlie laughed. “I’ve never had it before. It’s a lot of fun.”

Mary sighed and hurried their pace out of the hospital. It had been a disaster of a covert mission, but they at least had what they needed now. She was eager to get back to Sam, so they could finally do _something_ that would help him. 


	17. Chapter 17

**_Chapter Seventeen_ **

 

As soon as they got back to the bunker, Mary took the things she’d gotten to Dean in Sam’s room. He checked through the supplies and said they were exactly what they needed. He wasted no time setting Sam up with an IV cannula and attaching the yellow banana bag. Mary didn’t usually like the evidence that Sam and Dean had needed to learn to do things like set up an IV and know what was needed in it, but she was grateful for it this time as it meant they could help Sam.

When he was done, she sat with them for a while, retreating to the library when the time came for Jody and Patience to arrive so that she could bring them to Sam without Dean needed to leave him. In the hall she met Castiel who was manhandling a large La-Z-Boy recliner towards Sam’s room.

Seeing Mary’s questioning look, he said, “I don’t think we’re going to persuade Dean to leave Sam’s room to sleep until Sam improves largely, and sleeping on a hard chair is not proper rest. I brought this from his recreation room.”

Mary didn’t even know they had a recreation room in the bunker, but she didn’t ask. “That’s a good idea,” she said. “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel smiled slightly. “It helps to be able to do even the smallest of things for them.”

“It does,” Mary said, thinking of how she’d felt more in control when they’d gone to the hospital.

She patted Castiel’s hand and carried on through to the library. Bobby was at a computer and Jack was reading one of the books of angel lore that the Men of Letters had written. The rest of the residents of the bunker were absent, and she was relieved that she wouldn’t need to pretend to be social for them.

“How’s Charlie doing?” she asked Bobby.

“I had Rowena put her to bed. She was still riding the high, and I didn’t think it was a good idea to leave her roaming out here. Rowena’s going to keep an eye on her. How’s Sam?”

He didn’t sound bitter now, so she answered honestly. “No change.”

Jack had looked up for the answer, but his eyes dropped back down at her response, and he shook his head sadly. 

“But your people should be here soon?”

“Very soon,” Mary said, checking her watch. “I’m going to go wait for them.”

Bobby nodded and turned his attention back to the computer.

Mary walked into the war room and pulled out a chair at the map table. She put her head in her hands and tried to clear her mind of the tormenting images that ran through it. She failed and sat with her sons’ suffering playing like a slideshow behind her closed eyes.

She had only been sitting a matter of minutes when she heard a hard knock on the door. She shot to her feet and jogged up the stairs. She unbolted the door and saw Jody standing with a pretty young woman beside her. They both looked tense, though Jody smiled when she saw Mary. “Hey.”

“Hey, Jody.”

She stepped back and they came in and walked down the stairs.

“This is Patience,” Jody said when Mary met them at the bottom. “Patience, this is Mary, Sam and Dean’s mother.”

“Hey,” Patience said, her eyes meeting Mary’s for a moment before looking away to take in the bunker. Mary was used to it now, but she remembered the awe she’d felt when she’d first come there. It was an impressive sight.  

“Alex and Claire wanted to come, too,” Jody said. “But I figured if Sam was feeling as bad as Dean said, he wasn’t going to want lots of people around.”

“Dean didn’t tell you?” Mary asked.

Jody frowned. “Tell me what? He said Lucifer had gotten hold of Sam in that other world and really hurt him. He said Sam is in a bad way, but not much else. He was busy telling me what he needed from Patience.”

“A bad way,” Mary said, almost amused. “He understated it. The closest I can come to explaining what Sam’s like now is catatonic, but it’s so much more than that. He’s really suffering. That’s why we need you, Patience.”

“I’ve never read a mind before,” she said. “I don’t think I even can.”

“Dean said your grandmother could,” Mary said. “He’s hoping that you might have something more of her gift that you can tap in to. Castiel thinks he will be able to sense it in you if you have.”

Patience nodded. “I’ll try.”

“I know this is a lot for you, and you don’t really know Sam, but we’re desperate,” Mary said.

“Let’s get started then,” Jody said. “Where’s Castiel?”

“He’ll be with Sam and Dean. I’ll get him. Come through and take a seat in here.”

She led them into the library and directed them to the table. Bobby looked up as they entered, and his mouth dropped open. “Sheriff?”

“Bobby,” Jody breathed then looked at Mary. “Is he a ghost again?”

“Dean didn’t tell you about that either?” Mary asked, then seeing her blank look, she went on. “When we came back from the other world, we brought people with us. The motel in town is full of them. Bobby was leader of the resistance there.”

“So, you are Bobby, but not our Bobby?” Jody asked.

Bobby nodded. “And you’re the Sheriff, but not the one that busted me for drunk and disorderly half a dozen times and stuck me in a cell till I sobered up.”

Jody smiled slightly. “Your world’s version of me was obviously tougher than I am. I used to give our Bobby a lift home.”

“She was tough,” Bobby said. “She died trying to defend a church full of Born-Again Christians from a crack team of angels.”

“Sounds like Jody,” Patience said fondly.

“I’ll get Cas,” Mary said. She went to Sam’s room and knocked. Dean bid her enter and she opened the door. “Jody and Patience are here. I figured it was best to let Castiel get a read on her before bringing her to Sam, give him some privacy if there’s nothing she can do.”

Castiel stood up from his place on the hard chair—Dean was now sitting on the La-Z-Boy, though he didn’t look relaxed—and said, “Of course.”

He followed Mary out of the room and into the hall. They walked in silence to the library where Jody was talking to Bobby, and Patience was still looking around. Castiel came to a stop and fixed his eyes on Patience who shifted under his scrutiny. Mary searched Castiel’s face, looking for a sign that she had the potential to help, but he was as unreadable as ever.

“This is Patience,” Mary said unnecessarily. 

Castiel nodded. “I see.”

Mary wondered what exactly it was he was seeing, but she left him to focus rather than asking. After what seemed like a long time, Castiel nodded and said, “You have a lot of potential. I never met your grandmother, but I think you exceed her gift from what Sam and Dean have told me about her.”

“Can she read minds?” Mary asked intensely.

“I believe she will be able to,” Castiel said.

“I’ve never done it before,” Patience said again, a hint of panic in her voice.

“Every gift comes with a very first time,” Castiel said.

Mary looked at her imploringly. “Please try. We just need to know what he’s thinking, what he’s seeing. We can’t connect with him any other way.”

Patience glanced at Jody who nodded and then drew a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” Mary said. “I’ll take you there now.”

They got to Sam’s room and Castiel entered first. Mary saw Jody and Patience hesitate in the hall and she smiled encouragingly as she went in. She stepped aside and waited for them to follow.

When Jody entered, her face slackened as she looked at Sam who was sitting up in bed with his empty eyes staring across the room. “You didn’t tell me he was like _this_!” she whispered.

“It’s hard to explain properly,” Mary said.

Jody nodded weakly. “I’ll say.”

She came deeper into the room and gestured Patience to follow. Patience looked almost afraid, and her eyes were fixed on her feet rather than on Sam.

“What do I do?” she asked.

“Whatever you can,” Dean said.

“Reach out for him,” Castiel said. “See if you can feel him with your mind. Imagine his thoughts as a doorway and step through.”

Patience looked up at Sam properly now and swallowed hard. Jody placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “You can do this.” 

Patience nodded and her face became concentrated. Mary watched her, willing it to work, only looking away when she heard Dean’s shocked gasp. “Sammy!”

Sam was looking at Jody—actually looking, not just staring through her. His lips were parted, and he looked like he was on the verge of speech.

“Sam!” Mary said, rushing toward the bed with her heart in her throat, but before she reached it, Sam was moving. He threw himself from the bed and raced at the wall. They were all too stunned by what they were seeing to react at first, but then Sam slammed his head into the wall with a sick thunk and crack and Mary screamed. He fell back and then ran at it again.

Dean vaulted over the bed caught Sam around the waist, knocking him to the floor and pinning him there before Sam could make a third attempt “Cas!” he bellowed.

Castiel shoved past Mary and dropped down beside Sam and Dean. He stiffened as he placed a hand to the bloodiest part of Sam’s head and light glowed under his palm. He held it there for a moment and then pressed two fingers to Sam’s temple. Sam’s eyes fell closed as sleep took him.

Mary watched, horrorstruck, as Dean and Castiel carried Sam back to the bed and laid him down. Dean covered him with a blanket and then turned away and wiped a hand over his face. Mary moved her eyes from her son and saw that Patience had backed away, but Jody had moved closer to the bed, her hands clasped over her mouth. “What the hell was that?” she asked.

“You,” Mary said.

Jody dropped her hands, looking stunned. “I didn’t do a thing!”

“No, but Sam did,” Mary said.

It was when Sam saw Jody that he reacted. She was his whole focus. Seeing her had triggered that awful reaction. She felt sick as she remembered the cracking sound as his head hit the wall, the way he had stumbled back and then thrown himself forward again, determined to harm himself.

“I don’t understand,” Jody said.

“Neither do I,” Dean said. “Why would he react like that to Jody? We’ve all been here with him since he got back, and he hasn’t seemed to register us at all. The only change was when I spoke this morning, but that was the words not me. But he saw her and freaked out.”

Mary looked at her sleeping son and wished she was the mind reader. She wanted to know what had happened in Sam’s head to make him react like that.

“That was… I’ve never seen anything like that before,” Patience said.

No one else could say the same. They hadn’t seen _that_ , but they had seen equal horrors, though this was worse as it was Sam.  

Dean addressed Patience. “Did you see anything?”

She seemed not to hear him, fixated on the bloody smear on the wall.

“Patience?” Jody prompted. “What did you see?

Patience shook her head. “I don’t think I really _saw_ anything. I could feel something when I reached for him, and I tried to imagine a door like you said, but then I was pushed out. I felt the force if it, and then he was…”

“He was headbutting a brick wall,” Dean said bitterly. “Thanks for trying.”

“Okay,” Jody said. “Maybe what Patience did snapped him out of what he was like before, but why would seeing me make him act like that?”

“I have no idea,” Dean said.

Castiel had been silently considering, he spoke in a voice of annoyance. “Naomi.”

“What about her?”

“I couldn’t understand how she got the spell from Sam. I was preoccupied by his other injures that I didn’t see, but it was his eye…”

Dean looked sickened. “You’re telling me she drilled into his head like she did you?”

Mary swallowed hard. There had to be a limit to what a person could stand to hear before it was too much to take in more, and she was sure she should have reached that limit the moment Dean told her the story of Sam’s time with Lucifer as explained by Maria, but the hits kept coming and she kept taking them. 

“In essence, yes. It’s not physical what she does, she’s not drilling directly into the brain, but she uses that tool to search thoughts and memories to see what she wants to see. Maria said she heard Sam scream. It is an incredibly painful process.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t…” Patience said, fleeing from the room. Jody shot them an apologetic look and followed her.   

Dean watched them go and then turned back to Sam, seeming to brace himself before saying. “This might be a good thing. Maybe what Patience did, however he kicked her out, has gotten through to him. He might wake up properly now. He could be back, right?” He looked hopefully at Castiel and Mary’s heart clenched as she waited for him answer, wondering if this could be it.

“It’s possible,” Castiel said.

“But you don’t think so?” Mary guessed.

“I have no expectations with this situation. They only give you hope, and that is a dangerous thing to have in these circumstances.”

Mary remembered how it had felt to her each time her hopes were dashed: when they finally had Sam back but he was this shell, when he’d looked at Jody and seemed to connect for the first time but then reacted by slamming his head into the wall. That had hurt, but she didn’t think she would be able to cope with this nightmare at all if she didn’t cling to something like hope.

“So, we wake him up,” Dean said.

Castiel nodded. “It will answer the question of whether he really is connected again. I can remove my influence.”

“Do it,” Dean commanded. “We need to know.”

“Wait,” Mary said. “We need to clean away the blood first.” She took a washcloth from beside the basin and dampened it with warm water then wiped it over Sam’s bloody forehead. She rinsed and did it again until there was no physical sign of what Sam had done left on him. “Okay. Go ahead, Cas.”

She stood back a little, far enough away to give him space, but close enough that Sam would see her when he woke. Dean moved to the bed and squatted so he was in Sam’s line of sight as Castiel leaned over the bed from the other side to touch Sam’s temple.

Sam’s eyes rolled, and Mary held her breath, waiting to see if her son would look back at her, but when Sam’s eyes opened, it was to reveal a stare devoid of recognition.

Dean cursed and quickly pushed away from the bed and walked to the door, his hand covering his mouth. Mary leaned close to Sam and stroked his cheek. “Sam?” she said tentatively. “Can you look at me?”

Sam blinked but his stare seemed to still go through her. She thought, or perhaps hoped that there was something deep in his eyes though that meant he was seeing her.

“Look at this, Dean,” she said.

Dean came back to her side and looked at Sam. “What?”

“His eyes,” she said. “They look different.”

Dean leaned closer and waved a hand in front of Sam’s face. “Nothing,” he said angrily. “He’s not there.”

Castiel came to Mary’s side and looked down at Sam. “No, Dean, I see it, too,” he said. “There is something.”

“Probably concussion,” Dean said dismissively.

“That’s impossible. I healed him,” Castiel said dogmatically.

“Then it’s nothing. You’re kidding yourselves. He’s the same damn mess he’s been since Jack pulled him through that rift. And I still have no idea how to help him!” He raised his voice to a shout. “There’s nothing!”

Mary looked back at Sam again, staring deep into his eyes. Maybe it was false hope, maybe she was fooling herself to give her some reprieve from the horror she was feeling, but she believed there really was something, deep down, hidden, that meant Sam was coming back to them.  

xXx

Everything that happened after Sam had given up was clouded. He remembered pain that had torn his head in two and Lucifer’s voice talking, but he hadn’t been able to take the meaning from the words, only the underlying threat that they held all the time. Then had come the clarity of passing through rift, the flood of sensation and fear that he remembered clearest of all as he had been so scared, knowing that Lucifer was going through with him, that he’d achieved his goal and led his army of murderous angels to Sam’s world to destroy it.

Sam hadn’t understood why Lucifer had taken him through, too, unless it was because he’d wanted him to be there to see it all happen, what his family had died to try to prevent, and when the sensation passed, Sam had been grateful to sink back into himself after, blocking out everything around him and retreating from the pain for what felt like an eternity.

Until he heard the voice.

It had been his name, spoken with shock, and then the words of comfort from the person that he trusted to be the one person that would save him from Lucifer. _“I’m here, Sammy. I’ve got you.”_

Dean had come.

Sam had wanted to reach out to the voice, to tell him he was there, too, but the walls he’d built around himself were too thick, he was too deep within himself. All he could do at first was listen as more voices came, the familiar voices of people he loved—Mary, Castiel and Jack—and try to fight his way free, and then Lucifer’s voice had whispered to him again as it had so many times when he’d been on the rack. _“They’re just ghosts, Sam. You saw them die. This isn’t real.”_

Sam had cringed away from the voice, hating the sound of it almost as much as who it belonged to, but he hadn’t been able make what it had said leave him. They _were_ his ghosts, and they were back to break his mind. He had thought he could protect himself by letting go and breaking, but it still hadn’t been enough. He needed to try harder.

Despite the fact he wanted to cling to them, Sam forced them away from himself and retreated inside again.

It was peaceful again for a while, but the voices were insistent. They reached him sometimes, and he knew he wasn’t trying hard enough. Sometimes he felt himself close enough to the surface that he would hear them almost clearly enough to understand the words, and in those moments,  he would flee from them, leaving his reflexes to get him through without thought or pain.

And then it changed again. Sam was within, not even the voices of his ignored ghosts reaching him, when a bright light flooded into his mind and he saw Jody and Patience. His instant reaction was happiness, he’d never thought he would see Jody again, and then sense reached him. They were there with Dean, Mary and Castiel, his ghosts, and that could only mean they were ghosts, too.

He had loved Jody, and Patience was so young. He couldn’t bear the pain of knowing they were dead, and what it meant.

Sam realized then that this was his future. He would be here forever, sustained by Lucifer unendingly, forced to see the ghosts of the people he loved joining those that were already there. There were so few people left in the world that he cared about, but would it end there? Would old ghosts join the new? Would he see his father? Kevin? Charlie? Bobby? Jess?

The last option made him feel like he was on fire. He would not live like this. He shoved the light away from his mind and threw himself at the wall. His head hit hard, but it wasn’t hard enough. He could still feel the pain, and Death meant no more pain. He threw himself forward again, hitting hard, and when it still wasn’t enough, he tried again, but something flew into him from the side and pinned him down. He struggled but he was held fast, and then there was warmth and fatigue. Sam was released from the ghosts but only for a moment before he was aware again, hearing the voice of his mother’s ghost.

Sam retreated into himself, but this time he didn’t reach for oblivion. He was thinking instead. He had to end this for himself. He had to stop. Withdrawing wasn’t enough to save him from the ghosts he had or those that were coming, so he would find another way.

When he had his chance, Sam was going to save himself. 


	18. Chapter 18

Dean was inserting a new line and reattaching the bag Sam had ripped out when he’d dove across the room, while Mary tucked the blankets in around him.

Sam was awake, his blank gaze across the room staring through the place Castiel stood. Mary seemed to be in a better mood than she had been since they’d gotten Sam back, and Dean thought it was because of whatever it was she thought she saw in Sam’s eyes. He didn’t see it. He had tried, he had willed himself to see it, but Sam looked as empty as ever to him.

He checked the tubing and then stepped back from the bed. “He’s set up,” he said unnecessarily.

Mary tucked Sam’s hand under the blanket, a poorly suppressed grimace on her face. Dean understood. He felt the same way touching Sam while his skin felt so wrong, but he was better at hiding it than his mother. He’d had more experience hiding what he was feeling when it came to Sam. He could look at gunshot wounds and tell Sam it wasn’t that bad, he could stitch his brother’s flesh closed and say it was just a scratch, he could see Sam’s pupil blown with concussion and hand him Tylenol and tell him he probably just needed a nap but they might as well go to a hospital and get him checked anyway, always willing Sam to agree. Sam did it for him, too. It was how they softened the blows when something was really wrong, to make it seem less than it was to help each other get through it.

The truth was that touching Sam, with his chilled, unresisting skin, was abhorrent. It truly felt like touching a corpse, and he would give just about anything for Sam to just warm up a little, to feel alive again. 

“We have to watch him,” Mary said suddenly as Dean took a seat in the hard chair beside the bed. “He can’t be left alone.”

“He hasn’t been alone once since we got him back,” Dean pointed out.

“But that was for us as much as him. He needs to be watched for himself now. Whatever happened when Jody was here, his reaction, could have killed him. If he hadn’t been so weak it probably would have.” Her voice shook. “Castiel can’t bring him back from that.”

“We’ll watch him,” Dean promised. “Cas doesn’t need to sleep. Jack needs less than us. I don’t like laying it on the kid as I know he struggles to be with Sam like this, but if we need him, we’ll use him.”

Mary nodded. “Bobby is getting impatient. He wants us to focus on Michael.” She sounded bitter.

Dean felt a surge of annoyance followed by a pang of guilt. He had been so consumed with Sam since they’d gotten him back that he’d barely thought of the archangel at all. He should have though, and Lucifer. They both needed to be stopped. Helping Sam was important, vital, but there needed to be a world left for him to come back to when they reached him. Sam wouldn’t want what was happening to him to cost other people. He would want them to keep fighting.

“He’s actually not wrong,” he said. “I’ll go talk to them, see where they’re at and work out what we need to do next. Lucifer is the bigger problem as Billie is on Michael’s tail, too. Maybe we can persuade her to take out Lucifer while she’s around.”

“But Jack wants to do it himself,” Mary said. “Painfully.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “He does?”

Mary nodded. “He meant it, too. We were at war in that place, seeing the way those people had suffered, and Jack was consumed with killing Michael, but now… He wants Lucifer even more.”

“It was never really personal for him before,” Castiel said mildly. “He saw suffering, but it wasn’t people he loved. He has never seen anything as bad as Sam, and he loves that man like a father. If any of us had the ability to end Lucifer ourselves, would we feel any different?”

Mary shook her head and Dean growled, “No.”

He wished he could be the one to kill Lucifer, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t physically capable of overpowering an archangel. He would watch Jack do it, and he would cheer him on, but he knew he would also resent the kid the joy of punishing the animal that had done this to Sam.

Mary looked back at Sam and said, “We need to find a way to help him, too. We can’t risk bringing Jody and Patience here again, but there must be something else.” She gasped. “What if one of us can get through to him? Toni Bevell got you into my head, Dean. Can we do the same thing for Sam?”

Dean raked a hand over his face. “I don’t know. We’ve got the equipment, but I have no idea how to use it, or what exactly it was she injected us with. It’s probably in one of the books in this place, but…” He looked at Castiel. “Can his soul take it?”

“I don’t know exactly what it was she did, so I wouldn’t recommend it, but perhaps there is another way.” He considered. “I can access his dreams if he is sleeping. If I tread carefully, observe… it could work.”

“Yes!” Dean said excitedly. “African Dream Root! I can do it. I reached Bobby and Charlie like that. I could talk to them, help them.”

“It’s safer if I go in alone,” Castiel said.

Dean shook his head. “No way. You can tell me what I need to do, but I’m going in. You can come if you like, but you’re not doing it alone.”

“We’ll have to be very careful,” Castiel warned. “If you see him there, if you can talk to him, can you be gentle and not push him for more than he’s able to give?”

Dean nodded. “Of course.”

“Dean,” Mary said gently.

“I can,” he insisted. “I won’t put pressure on him, I’ll just talk, work out what he’s seeing in there. That’s what Billie said we needed. This could work. I’m doing it.”

He saw Mary and Castiel exchange a look of silent communication, but he disregarded it. He was the only one that knew what he was capable of, and he would do this right. He wasn’t going to risk harming Sam at all. He would reach him. No one in this room, in the entire world, knew his brother better than him. He knew what he needed, and that was him.

“I’ll get the stuff,” he said.

He left them in the room to finish the conversation they’d started with their pointed looks, and went to the lab to get what he needed. The African Dream Root was kept on a shelf with a bunch of other ingredients Dean didn’t know the uses of, and he grabbed the jar and carried it through the library towards the kitchen.

Bobby hailed him as he passed, and said, “We need to talk, Dean.”

“Yeah, I know. Just give me an hour,” Dean called over his shoulder. “We’re trying something for Sam. When it’s done, I’ll come out and we can talk about anything you want.”

Hopefully, within an hour, he would also have good news to share.

Kevin and one of Bobby’s people Dean thought was called Maggie were in the kitchen, eating sandwiches, and though Kevin asked, “How’s Sam doing?” as Dean pulled open the cupboard and searched among the jars for the ingredients for Dream Root tea, Dean just muttered, “Working on it,” distractedly, and ignored his requests for more information.

He found the ginger and cinnamon and measured a teaspoon of each into a glass before adding water and the root. He wasn’t sure he’d gotten the measurements right, but he couldn’t stop to check. What mattered was the root, and he was sure he had enough of that. He stirred it and then rushed out of the kitchen and back towards Sam’s room, Jack and Charlie’s eyes on him while Bobby looked away pointedly.

He got back to Sam’s room and went straight to the bed. He plucked a hair from Sam’s head and dropped it into the glass of tea.

“I need you to put us both out, Cas,” he said. “We can’t wait to fall asleep naturally.”

“Make yourself comfortable,” Castiel said.

Dean sat on the recliner and knocked back the unpleasant tasting tea, setting the empty glass on the floor and watching Castiel touch Sam’s forehead and send him to sleep.

He came to Dean next, and Dean relaxed back in his chair. “I’m ready.”

“Be careful, Dean,” Mary warned.

Dean looked her in the eye. “I will, I promise. This’ll work, Mom.”

“I hope so,” she said fervently.

Castiel reached for Dean and a moment later, sleep swept over him and he found himself in place surrounded by shadowy darkness. There was a glow without a clear source illuminating Sam who sat on the floor, his knees dawn to his chest. Sam’s face was as blank as it was in the waking world, but there was something in his eyes that had been missing from him since he’d been brought out of the void. Dean walked towards him, Sam’s name on his lips, but he silenced himself before any words could leave him. He had promised he would be careful, and he thought it would be better to wait for Castiel to arrive to guide him.

He wanted to be closer to Sam though, so he walked forward and knelt in front of him, taking in the sight. Sam’s eyes didn’t follow him, but Dean thought he knew he was there.

He heard Castiel’s muffled voice, coming as if through a thin motel room wall, and he looked around for him, but he wasn’t there. Thinking he might be in the darkness somewhere, he said, “Cas?” tentatively.

There was no response, but then a second voice came, Mary’s, and Dean realized what was wrong. She couldn’t be here with him as she’d not drunk the tea, so this was what Sam heard. Dean didn’t understand it. He’d been knocked out by Castiel more than once, and he knew it was out-and-out sleep, not half wakefulness in which you could hear what was happening around you.  

He looked at Sam again, and resisted the urge to reach for him. As he struggled, he heard footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Castiel coming towards him. Relieved, Dean sat down properly, facing Sam, and said, “I could hear you and Mom,” quietly. 

Castiel squatted beside Dean and asked, “What did we say?”

“I don’t know, it was muffled, but it was definitely you. Do you think I was hearing what Sam hears, or is the real world bleeding through just for me?”

“I can’t be sure without hearing it myself and comparing it to what was said, but we did speak before I entered Sam’s dream.”

“So he hears us.”

“I think so. It would make sense. It’s good news even. It confirms that he’s not completely shut down. He’s just withdrawn into himself.”

“I thought it would be more,” Dean said. “With the damage to his soul, I thought it would be… I don’t know, torture in here. This seems better.”

“It’s like the Empty,” Castiel said, looking around. “But not as absolute. It’s obviously not a memory Sam has withdrawn into. It’s a place he created for himself.”

Dean looked around again. “It’s not exactly comfortable. If he did it himself, wouldn’t he want more? When my mom was brainwashed by Bevell, she was in a memory of Heaven with me and Sammy. This is so dark.”

“I think it’s the best he can do. Your mother’s soul was whole and healed when she retreated, and she was able to recall what, to her, was a perfect place. Sam is limited by his damage.”

Dean was on the point of replying when he heard his mother’s voice again. Even though it was muffled, Dean could tell it was intended to give comfort. He was sure that was what was really happening in Sam’s room while they were gone. Sam really could hear them even though he gave no sign of it.

“How do we reach him?” he asked, eager to start now he knew something about Sam’s awareness. If he could hear them, surely it would be easier to bring him back.

Castiel hesitated a moment before saying, “I think we talk to him. You try. Don’t push. Just tell him you’re here. That should comfort him if he hears you.”

Dean took a breath and said, “Sammy, it’s me. I’m here, man. Me and Cas have come to get you.”

Sam drew in a sharp breath and Dean held his own, hoping for more.

“Careful,” Castiel whispered, laying a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean nodded. “We’re all here,” he said gently, “Mom and Jack, too. We all need you back. I know you’ve been through a lot, and it’s overwhelming you right now, but you can’t stay here.” He smiled. “We’ve got work to do.”

Sam’s eyes cleared and he looked right at Dean. Castiel’s hand tightened on Dean’s shoulder and he said, “It’s okay, Sam,” reassuringly, but Sam seemed oblivious to his words. He stared Dean in the eyes for a moment and then his face twisted with agony and a horrible scream of pain ripped out of him.

“Sam!” Dean said, reaching for him automatically, but Castiel pushed his hand back into his lap and said, “No!”

Sam’s hands came to his hair and yanked on the strands, pulling them out in clumps. He eyes were wide and terrified, and still that scream ripped from him, a sound of unendurable agony.

“What do we do?” Dean asked desperately.

“We get out,” Castiel said. “We’re hurting him.”

He disappeared from Dean’s side, and Dean scrambled to his feet and backed away from Sam. He wanted to help, but his attempt had only hurt him.

He felt a rush of warmth and then his eyes snapped open to the ceiling of Sam’s bedroom. At first he thought he hadn’t left at all, because he could still hear the scream, then Mary’s voice broke through the sound. “Calm down, Sam!” she said urgently. “It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you. Lucifer is gone.”

Dean fell out of his seat and rushed towards the bed. Sam was sitting bolt upright, the veins on his neck standing out as he screamed.

“Do something, Cas!” he shouted.

Castiel shoved him aside and learned over the bed. He pressed his whole hand to Sam’s forehead and light glowed. Sam’s scream cut off as his eyes closed and he dropped hard back onto the bed.

Mary cupped his cheek, for once not seeming to notice the way Sam’s skin felt, only taking comfort from the touch.

“What was that?” Jack asked from the doorway.

Dean turned and saw him, Bobby and Charlie crowded there, looking into the room with wide eyes. The sight of them angered him. This was Sam at his worst, and they were an audience to it. “Get out!” he snapped. “Leave!”

When they didn’t move, he walked towards them and pushed the door closed on them. He turned back to the bed and raked a hand over his face.

“What happened?” Mary asked.

“I don’t know,” Dean said. “I was so careful. I was just talking to him, and he freaked. He saw me, really saw me, and then started screaming. I have never seen him like that before.”

“What did you say?” Mary asked.

“I…  I said he needed to come back. I told him we were all here. I was gentle though, I swear. I just told him we needed him.”

Castiel shook his head. “I don’t think it was what you said to him. That reached him, yes, but his reaction was to seeing you.”

“Why?” Mary asked. “It’s _Dean_.”

Dean waited for the answer, too. He needed to know what it was about him that had made Sam react that viscerally. Had he been scared of him maybe?

“I don’t know,” Castiel admitted. “Perhaps because his place had been invaded when it had only been him before. He didn’t even seem to notice me.”

Dean covered his eyes and groaned. Castiel had been right; he should never have insisted on entering Sam’s dream. It was him that had made Sam react, not Castiel. He should have trusted Castiel to reach him.

“It’s not all bad,” Castiel said.

Dean gaped at him. “You’re kidding, right? Didn’t you see what just happened? Didn’t you hear it?”

“I did, but I also heard Mary’s voice while I was in there. It proves that Sam is peripherally aware of his surroundings, even in sleep. He must be even more aware when he’s awake. We can’t reach him while he’s asleep, that obviously made things worse, but perhaps we can when he’s awake. We need to keep engaging with him. Perhaps if he can connect with us in his mind, he will be able to reach out in return. The fact his pain in his dream transported itself to his body means that it can. He is capable of coming out of himself. We just need to find the right, gentler, way to make him do it.”

“You think?” Dean asked.

“I do. As awful as that was for us, and Sam, it was good news, too.”

Mary wrapped the blankets tighter around Sam and said, “Okay. We’ll try that. I’ll keep talking, but not yet. I want him to rest first.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed.  

“He will rest a long time,” Castiel said. “I sent him as deep as I could.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Mary said.

Dean was glad, too. He wanted Sam to have a little peace after what had just happened.

There was a knock on the door, and Dean turned to it. “What?”

Jack pushed open the door and peered inside. “Is he okay?” he asked tentatively.

“He’s resting now,” Castiel said.

Jack nodded. “That’s good.”

“Do you need something, Jack?” Mary asked pointedly.

“What? Oh! Yes. We need you, Dean.”

“I’ll be out soon,” Dean said. “Just give me a minute.”

“We can’t,” Jack said seriously. “We need you now.”

“What’s going on, Jack?” Castiel asked.

Jack looked from Sam to Dean, his concerned look becoming one of intensity. “We think we’ve found Lucifer.”


	19. Chapter 19

**_Chapter Nineteen_ **

 

_“We think we’ve found Lucifer.”_

Dean’s stepped toward Jack, his heart racing in his chest. “You’ve found him?”

Jack nodded. “We think so. There are signs.”

Dean made for the door and Jack stepped aside to let him pass, he turned back on the threshold and said, “Mom, stay with Sam.”

“Of course,” she replied.

Dean rushed to the library with Jack and Castiel following in his wake. When he got in there, he saw Charlie at the laptop with Bobby standing behind, peering over her shoulder. Ketch and Rowena were standing on the other side of the table, and Kevin sat with Maggie. The room was filled with tense silence that was broken as Dean rushed to Bobby’s side and looked at the map displayed on the laptop with red lights blinking on it.

“What have you got, Charlie?” he asked.

“Demon signs,” Bobby answered before Charlie could speak. “They’re all over East Kansas, but the center point is Stull.”

“That’s where our archangel smackdown started,” Charlie added helpfully.

“It’s where ours was foretold to be, too,” Castiel said.  “It’s where Sam opened the portal that took our Lucifer and Michael to the Cage.”

“We think Lucifer is gathering forces for the battle,” Bobby said.

“Or both of them are there,” Rowena said. “Lucifer could have brought an army with him to watch. He’s arrogant enough to want that.”

“He was defeated in our world by Michael more than once,” Bobby said. “Why would he be there with him now? It makes more sense for him to hide from Michael.”

“He might be stronger now,” Dean said. “However he got Sam back from the Empty, whether he was able to pull him out or just wake him up, it took more power than he should have. Maybe he’s ready.”

“I don’t think Michael is there yet,” Castiel said. “We would know if the battle had started. Perhaps Lucifer has just chosen the place to amass his army.”

“I doesn’t matter which,” Jack said passionately. “If Lucifer is there, I’ve got to be there, too. This is my chance to kill him!”

Mary had said Jack wanted to be the one to end Lucifer, painfully, but Dean still hadn’t expected this raw fury from him. He more than wanted to kill Lucifer. He _needed_ to end him.

“You can’t go alone,” Castiel said.

“Why not?” Jack asked belligerently.

“Because the kinds of numbers these signs indicate mean enough demons to pose a threat to you if they attacked at once.”

“What good will you be though?” Jack asked. “I’m the only one that has a chance of stopping Lucifer _and_ the demons.” 

“Excuse me,” Rowena said. “I’m here as more than a pretty face to light the room. I’m no longer bound. I can take down a few demons.”

“A few?” Jack asked.

Rowena smiled sweetly. “How about we go together and see who can kill the most the fastest? We can even make a wager.”

“We all have to go,” Castiel said, looking at Dean. “Don’t we?”

Dean knew what he was saying, and he was torn by it. He needed to be there, too, but that meant leaving Sam behind where he couldn’t watch him. The last time Sam had been upset, he’d been in obvious agony, and before that he’d smashed his head into a wall. If he got upset again, Mary would be left with him alone. Dean needed to be in both places, and that was impossible.

Castiel dropped his voice. “This is the world, Dean. Sam’s world, too.”

Bobby turned to Dean and glowered. “You _are_ coming.” It wasn’t a question.

Dean knew he had no choice really. He’d thought before that Sam needed a world to come back to, and this was the first test of that. If they could stop Lucifer now, they could give him something good to cling to if they could reach him. He heard them sleeping. Maybe he could hear them and take it in when he was awake, too. This might be what he needed so he wasn’t afraid to come back anymore.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” he said. “Everyone grab an angel blade. They can kill demons, too.”

“And Lucifer is mine,” Jack said harshly.

“No arguments there,” Charlie said fervently.

“Saddle up,” Dean said. “I’ll meet you at the cars. Ketch, I need you to stay here with my mom and Sam.”

Ketch shot Rowena a look and she nodded slightly.

“I think I would be more valuable in a battle situation than here,” he said carefully.

“Come with me,” Dean said, walking back toward the bedrooms.

Ketch fell into step at his side and said, “I should come, Dean.”

Dean stopped and turned to face him. “Did you hear what Sam tried to do to himself earlier?”

“You mean when he smashed his head into a wall? Yes. Jody Mills told us. Do you think he will try it again?

“I sure as hell hope not, but I need you here in case. Cas put Sam out and he should stay that way for hours, but in case he wakes up and looks like he wants to hurt himself again, you’ve got to pin him. He’s lost a lot of weight and strength, but he was strong enough to fight me when I pinned him earlier. I don’t think Mom could hold him.”

“I should come with you,” Ketch said again.

Dean sighed. “I know you want to protect Rowena, but she’s stronger than you and I put together. I’ll take care of her for you if she needs me to, and you take care of Sam for me.”

Ketch looked torn but he nodded. “Okay. Yes. I will stay.”

Dean thanked him and carried onto Sam’s bedroom. The door was open and he walked in then gestured Ketch in with him.

“We’ve got to go, Mom,” he said. “There’s a chance we can get Lucifer.”

“I know,” Mary said. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Sam. You go.”

“You’re going to have company,” Ketch said. “I’m staying with you.”

Mary frowned, and Dean guessed she was think of an extended period with the man that had helped to brainwash her and had killed Mick, had made her kill hunters even. He didn’t know what had happened when Ketch was in that world with her, but he doubted it had garnered her much affection for him after what he had done.

“If Sam wakes up and is struggling again, Ketch can hold him,” Dean explained.

Her features smoothed and she nodded. “Okay.”

Dean knew it was her concern for Sam that made her agree, and he was glad of it.

“I should go,” he said regretfully. “We’ll come back as soon as we can. If he wakes up, tell him…” He hesitated. He wanted to say that she should tell him he was coming back, but after his last reaction to seeing Dean he wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. “Just take care of him. “

“I will,” she promised. “And you all take care of each other.”

Dean nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”

He looked at Sam once more, checking he was still resting peacefully as he could, and then left, thinking only of what was coming for them when they got to Stull. He didn’t really want to go back to the place of one of the worst moments of his life, but he needed to.

This was how they were going to get Lucifer and start to avenge what had happened to Sam.

xXx

Lucifer allowed enough time for his demons to amass before calling the angels to him and leading them there. He gave them the same command that he had given the demons, that there was to be no killing, and then flew there himself.

The angels came alone and in groups, aligning themselves on the opposite side of the cemetery from the demons, their lips curled in disgust, and the demons glowered in return. There were far more angels than demons, he saw, and knew Kipling had been right that the real numbers of useful demons were in the pit. He needed to free them. The angels were multiple though, and he was proud of the army he’d amassed, even with the unexplained absences. They were a powerful force for him.

Lucifer set himself between the two factions and raised his voice to carry to them all. “I have called you all here today with a purpose.”

“To kill them?” a bold-faced male angel called from the back of the group, glaring at the grouped demons.

“No, Thaddeus,” Lucifer said impatiently. “To work together.” Over the murmurs of discontent he said, “The worst destruction of your world came from the wars with demonkind. We do not want to recreate that wasteland here, so we need to be smarter. You’re not all that different really.”

“They’re abominations,” Thaddeus said.

Lucifer glared at him. “Interrupt me once more and it will be the last thing you ever do.”

The angel glared down at his feet but didn’t comment again.

“If you can give up on the old hostilities, we can really make something of this world,” he went on. “I have plans that I would like to include you all in, but if you can’t play nice, I will make sure you don’t have the chance to be a part of it. I don’t mind smiting you if you force me.”

Kipling raised his hand and Lucifer nodded to him to speak. “What are you plans?” he asked. “We know you were planning to use Croatoan last time, but humans that rabid aren’t going to be entertaining for us. It’s more fun when they feel what you do to them and their loved ones.”

“Good point,” Lucifer said. “In fact, this time, I plan to…”

He trailed off as he heard engines roaring towards them. He peered over at the gate and sighed. Dean Winchester was at the wheel of his car with Castiel beside him. In the same generic model that he’d seen before came Bobby Singer, Rowena and—he gasped—Jack.

“You might want to get out of here,” Lucifer said. “We’re going to have company.”

The demons looked at each other incredulously. Lucifer thought they were weighing up the threat of a lone Winchester against their numbers and finding it lacking. They either hadn’t noticed the occupant of the second car or they weren’t aware of what Jack was capable of. 

“Now!” Lucifer commanded them then addressed the angels. “You too. I’m about to have a family reunion, and my son has a habit of killing angels.”

The angels disappeared one by one and the demons fled their meatsuits, leaving unconscious and dead bodies littering the ground.

Lucifer formed his face into a smile of welcome for his son and watched as they fled their cars and raced towards him. He wasn’t expecting a happy reunion with Dean, Castiel and Rowena, but he _had_ helped Jack rescue his friends from that world, and he thought with a few careful lies, he would be able to make the situation work.

Jack reached him first, closely followed by Dean and Castiel, with Bobby and Rowena bringing up the rear.

“Jack!” Lucifer said in a tone of welcome. “It’s good to see you, son.”

Rowena flung out her hands and clasped them, shouting, “Adligetur fera!”

Lucifer’s hands were dragged behind his back and he felt warm cuffs encircle his wrists. He had expected something like this from the witch, so he wasn’t worried, but Jack didn’t seem as happy to see him as he had hoped.

“You seem upset,” Lucifer observed. “I know this looks a little suspicious, an army of demons and angels with me, I know what the angels did in that world, but give me a minute and I’ll explain. The time I managed to spend with them in that world has changed them. I made them see what a mess they’d created of their world, and I am teaching them a better way to live among humans. I was going to tell you all about it, but I wanted them fully assimilated first.”

“And the demons?” Rowena asked scathingly.

“I can explain that, too,” Lucifer said,

Bobby rolled his eyes. “This should be good.”

“I want them to _think_ they’re part of the plan. I need to find a way to deal with them without making this world a new version of the nightmare I just escaped. While they’re working for me, they’re not drinking infant blood and destroying lives.”

“You’re going to kill them?” Jack asked, and Dean shifted uneasily at his side.

“Don’t you think someone should?” Lucifer asked. “I told you before, son. I’ve changed.”

“You’re not the only one,” Dean said bitterly. “Sam’s pretty different since you got your hands on him, too.”

“Sam’s back, too?” Lucifer didn’t know how he’d managed that. He had left him a broken shell of a man in that cage. The only option was that Maria could have freed him, but Lucifer thought he’d scared her into obedience. If she was back, too, he would make flaying her the next item on his to-do list.  

“He’s back, and I’ve seen what you did to him,” Jack said angrily.

Lucifer managed to not roll his eyes with effort. “I did what I had to do,” he said.

“Sam had to be tortured?” Dean growled.

Lucifer felt an inkling of hope as an idea occurred to him, and he seized on it. “I didn’t mean to torture him. I was trying to get the demon out of him.”

Jack frowned and Lucifer thought he was maybe coming on board. He really was easily fooled. He got that from his mother, not him. Lucifer was definitely the one with the better genes.

“It was a tempter demon called Rafe,” he said. “He took Sam while I was trying to stop Michael passing though the rift. I did _everything_ I could, but he was strong and had his claws in Sam. I couldn’t exorcise him, the only option was smiting him, and I knew how much you cared about Sam. That’s why I came back. I needed your power to help me. I thought we could save Sam together.”

“Then why didn’t you come straight to me?” Jack asked.

Lucifer lowered his head in mock shame. “I was scared to face you after failing Sam so badly. I thought if I had something good to show you, the end of demonkind, then you’d trust we were on the same side.”

Jack looked doubtful. “Why did you leave Sam there?”

Lucifer looked sad. “Because I couldn’t risk letting a tempter demon free in this world. They leave nothing but corpses in their wake.”

Castiel looked at the meat suits, some of which were starting to rouse now. “Dean.”

“Priorities, Cas,” Dean said curtly. 

“So you were trying to save Sam when you hurt him,” Jack said.

“Yes!” Lucifer said emphatically.

“But Sam isn’t possessed,” Jack said.

“Rafe left him!” Lucifer said, making his voice elated. “That’s perfect. Take me to him now and I can help.”

“You think we’re letting you near Sam again?” Dean growled.

“I’m the only one that can help him,” Lucifer said. “The trauma of what Rafe would have done to him must be immense. He’s probably changed forever. I’m the only one that can take that from him. Castiel isn’t strong enough to strip those memories.” He fixed his eyes on Jack. “We’re on the same side, son. I want to save Sam. It’s what I tried to do every day I was in that place with him.”

Jack looked uncertain, and Lucifer knew he was getting through to him. This was going to work out better than he’d dared to hope. He’d have all of them onside, convincing Jack that he was good, and then they could face Michael—for the good of the world, of course.

“Are you buying a word of this, Jack?” Bobby asked. 

Jack’s expression hardened. “No!”

Lucifer felt his excitement burst like a soap bubble and he bit back a groan. He was screwed.

“Do it, Jack,” Dean commanded, staring at Lucifer with hatred.

Jack raised his hands to Lucifer, his eyes lit with golden light. Lucifer felt pain explode in him, and he moaned. It was like every bone in his body was being crushed. “Jack!” he rasped.

Jack sent another blast of power at him again, and Lucifer felt wetness streak from his ears and eyes. He hadn’t felt this kind of pain since Michael had beaten him and banished him to the Cage. It was agony. He stared at Jack, imploring him with his eyes. Jack looked back at him, hated etched into his features.

“Do it! Do it!” Rowena chanted, and Lucifer thought she was enjoying her little payback after being immolated alive,

Jack narrowed his eyes and Lucifer felt another wave of pain.

“Stop!” he begged. “I’m your father.”

Jack loosed up on the pressure for a moment and spoke though his teeth. “You’re not my father. Sam, Dean and Cas are, and Sam is a ruin because of you.”

Dean stared at Lucifer for a long moment, a look of hatred in his eyes, and then he laid a hand on Jack’s arm. “Wait.”

Lucifer panted. He’d never expected Dean Winchester to be the one that saved him, but he wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth.   

“Can you hold him, Rowena?” Dean asked.

“In this broken body, I can hold him forever,” Rowena said arrogantly.

“Then stop,” Dean said.

“What?” Bobby said, his eyes wide.

“We’ll kill him,” Dean said. “But Sam needs to see it happen. He deserves that.” He looked at Jack. “It might help him.”

Jack looked torn. Lucifer could see he really wanted to end it now, but whatever skewed bond he had with Sam made him want to help him more.

Jack lowered his hands and Rowena raised hers. Lucifer felt warmth encircling his chest and legs, squeezing against his crushed bones.

“I will end you soon,” Jack promised.

“You won’t need to,” Lucifer said. “Take me to Sam and I will help him. He’ll be able to tell you about Rafe. You’ll know I was trying to save him. You’ll see.”

“Are you sure about this, Dean?” Castiel asked.

Dean nodded. “I’ve never been more sure. This will help Sam.”

“Okay,” Castiel said. “Let’s get him back then. I don’t want to wait a minute more than we need to before seeing him die.”

“Get him up, Jack,” Dean commanded. “He can go in the trunk.”

Jack came forward and grabbed Lucifer’s arm and hauled him up. It was agonizing to Lucifer’s broken legs, and he couldn’t support himself properly. Jack sighed and dragged him bodily toward the cars.

Lucifer was in pain and even he had to admit that the situation was pretty dire, but he was nothing if not a survivor. If he could delay them long enough with promises of saving Sam, his body would have a chance of healing itself. Then he would be able to get free of Rowena’s hold. He would be in control again, and the people that had helped do this to him would be punished.

Fatherly affection only stretched so far. Jack was going to pay for what he had done.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**_Chapter Twenty_ **

****

Sam was sleeping, and Mary sat on the edge of the bed, talking quietly to him. She wasn’t self-conscious with Ketch in the room. Castiel had said that he had been able hear her when he was in Sam’s dream which meant Sam could hear her, too. She was doing this for him, and what Ketch thought of it didn’t matter. There was so little she could do for Sam, so she was going to make the most of what she could.

She hated what was happening to her sons. One was trapped within himself, not able to respond to her at all, and the other was driving himself crazy trying to fix it. Though he didn’t say it. Mary knew Dean felt guilty for what had happened to Sam. None of it was his fault, but Dean placed such high value on protecting the people he loved, protecting Sam, that this failure was almost too much for him to deal with.

Mary fully understood now why Dean had wanted Sam to be dead rather than trapped. She’d thought she understood when he and Castiel had told them what happened to Sam in the Cage, but hearing about it and seeing the aftermath of that kind of torture were very different things. She loved both her sons more than anything in the world, and she would never wish Sam dead, but she did think it would have been better for him to have died instead of going through what he had. They would have grieved for him, it would have changed them forever, but Sam would at least have had peace. Mary didn’t know now if he would ever have peace again.

She was more worried about Dean now than she had been since they’d gotten Sam back. He was going after Lucifer, and he was filled with hatred and rage towards the archangel. Dean could be hotheaded, and she worried he wouldn’t take enough care when faced with him. She knew he was with Jack, who would protect Dean with his life, but Lucifer could explode angels to dust with a snap of his fingers. What could he do to a human? If Lucifer struck before Jack could stop him, Dean could be killed, and there was no way to bring him back.

She couldn’t call them though, not even to check how it was going, as she didn’t want to distract them. They all needed their attention fixed on Lucifer alone.

She checked the clock on Sam’s bedside table and saw that only 3 hours had passed. She sighed.

Ketch looked up from the book he was reading, seated in the recliner, and said, “They probably haven’t even reached Stull yet.”

“I know,” Mary said dismissively.

“And they’re more than capable of dealing with Lucifer. Jack can overpower him alone, even if he didn’t have Rowena at his side. Don’t worry.”

“Aren’t you worrying about Rowena?” she snapped.

She knew that he and Rowena had grown close since his return to this world. According to Kevin, whom she had overheard complaining to Maggie, they were making the most of their time together in the noisiest possible way in the room beside his. It seemed strange sometimes that life was going on around them now while she and Dean were almost wholly focused on the goings on inside this room.

“Rowena can handle herself,” Ketch said with a shrug.

Mary wasn’t sure if he truly had that much faith in the witch or if their relationship was limited to the physical, but he sounded calm considering what Rowena was going up against.

She returned her attention to Sam, telling him softly that she was there and that he was okay, but cut off when there was a knock on the door.

When she called for them to come in, Kevin opened the door and peered inside. “Is it okay if I come in?” he asked tentatively.

Mary considered for a moment. She knew Dean didn’t want people around Sam while he was like this, but Kevin looked so sad and concerned that she didn’t want to send him away when it clearly mattered to him to be here.

“Come in,” she said.

Kevin came slowly into the room, his eyes on Sam and his expression soft, and took a seat in the hard chair.

“I just wanted to check in on him,” he said. “I figured Dean wouldn’t want company for him in here, but I needed to see.”

“You know Sam well?” Mary asked.

“I did before I died,” Kevin said. “And after I guess. He and Dean were all the family I had left—at least I thought so.”

“Yes, you died,” Ketch said musingly.  

Kevin shot him a glare. “Yes.”

“Me too,” Mary said. “It was a demon. What happened to you?”

Kevin was silent for a moment, and Mary thought he was going to refuse to answer, but then he looked at Mary, pointedly ignoring Ketch, and said, “I was killed by the angel that was possessing Sam.”

“Lucifer?” Mary asked.

“No, the second time. Gadreel.” Seeing her confusion, he huffed a laugh. “I’m guessing they didn’t fill you in on that bit of uncomfortable family history.”

“Sam and Dean don’t seem to fill me in on anything they feel uncomfortable about unless forced.”

“It was the trials,” Kevin said. “We were trying to close the Gates of Hell for good, and there were these tasks Sam had to do. He did two of them, and they were really rough on him; he was really sick by the time the third came around, but he was going to do it. He had to cure a demon, and they were doing the ritual on Crowley, but Dean found out it was going to kill him to finish. It required ‘the ultimate sacrifice’. Dean stopped him in time to save him, but Sam was still a mess. I don’t know exactly what happened, but it took an angel possessing him to fix him, only Sam didn’t know what he was saying yes to. Dean tricked him somehow.”

“But it was to save his life?” Mary asked, sure it had to be for Dean to do it.

“Yeah. Only Gadreel was really a psycho that teamed up with the big bad, an angel called Metatron, and killed me.” He shook his head. “It nearly ruined everything between them. Sam was so angry about it, and Dean was really messed up. I was stuck here following them around as a ghost for a while, and I saw it all. They both felt guilty about me, blaming themselves.”

“But they were okay again after,” Mary stated.

Kevin nodded. “They seemed it the next time I saw them, when Chuck sent me to Heaven. I don’t know exactly what happened to fix things but knowing them it was angsty.”

“It was Dean dying,” Ketch said.

Mary gasped. “Dean died!”

“And subsequently became a demon,” he went on calmly. “A Knight of Hell in fact.” Misconstruing their stunned looks, he explained. “The British Men of Letters studied the Winchesters for years before we came to America.”

“What happened to him?” Kevin asked. “How did he die?”

“He was killed by Metatron. Because he had the Mark of Cain, he became a demon instead of truly dying. He was cured by Sam, but he still bore the Mark and it was slowly corrupting him.”

Mary drew a deep breath. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She knew there were things Sam and Dean didn’t share with her for their own reasons, but this was something she should have known, surely. Her sons had died, more than once, and Dean had actually been a demon.

“How did Dean get rid of the Mark?” Kevin asked.

“Rowena did a spell,” Ketch said. “It successfully removed the Mark, but in doing so it released the Darkness. She was God’s sister. Incidentally, she was the one that resurrected you, Mary.”

Mary nodded weakly. “Dean told me that part.” And he’d said he would tell her everything, but apparently, he had lied.  

She didn’t know what to think. She’d always known there was a lot about her sons that she hadn’t known but hearing this made he wonder how much more there was. She refused to ask Ketch, to hear his reports of things the Men of Letters had watched but not assisted with, but she would ask them. Once Dean was back, she was going to ask her questions. She was going to get the full story at last.

Ketch was watching her expectantly, perhaps waiting for her to ask more, but she ignored him and looked at Kevin. “So you’re family, too.”

“I guess I am,” Kevin said with a small smile that quickly faded. “I knew being a Winchester came with some pretty bad luck, but I never thought I would see Sam like this. I can’t imagine the kind of evil it takes to do something like this to a person.”

Mary shivered. “I don’t want to. It’s too much.”

“Sorry,” Kevin said. “This must be really hard on you.”

“It has been hard,” Mary said. “I have faith it will be better though. I believe in Sam, and I believe he will come back from this.” Seeing Kevin’s doubt, she went on. “I knew he was alive. I was maybe wrong to hope for it, but I believed he was, and I was right. And I see something changing now. I know he was bad earlier, when he was… upset.” That was the closest thing she could think of to explain the way Sam had screamed in obvious anguish. “But it was a reaction. And before that I saw something in his eyes that was real. I think he’s really trying to come back now.”

Kevin nodded. “I hope… Hey! He’s awake!”

Mary’s eyes snapped to Sam and she saw his eyes were open. More, he looked different, almost engaged. She thought he was really seeing the room around him, not just staring blankly at it.

“Sam,” she said tentatively. “Can you hear me?”

Sam didn’t look at her, but Mary thought he was listening.

She stoked his cheek, fancying that it felt a little warmer now, a little more like him again. “Hello, Sam,” she said gently. “How are you feeling? You’re looking better. Think you can handle something to eat?”

“ _Is_ that better?” Kevin asked skeptically.

Mary nodded. “Much. I’m going to get some food for him. Can you talk to him?

Kevin looked uncomfortable, but he said, “Uh… Sure,” and pulled the chair closer to the bed. 

Mary rushed out of the room, wanting to be back quickly back to Sam, and heard Kevin say, “Hey, Sam. It’s me. I’m back. Again.”

Mary jogged along the hall, almost reaching the library when she heard a crash and shout from behind her. She ran back to Sam’s bedroom and her heart stopped at what she saw. Ketch was on the floor, a small pool of blood puddling under his head. Kevin stood with his hands raised, the chair he’d been sitting on in pieces on the floor, and Sam… Sam was standing up now, his eyes wide and aware, and in his bloody hand was a shard of glass from the broken mirror above the basin.

“Sam!” Mary said, and his eyes darted to hers.

He looked terrified, desperate, and she knew what he was going to do a moment before he did. She rushed towards him, reaching for the hand holding the shard of mirror in his hand, but before she could stop him, Sam lifted the shard and thrust it into the side of his neck. Blood poured from the wound, soaking his hoodie, and he made to make the movement again, to stab at himself, but his knees weakened, and he fell backward, sliding down the wall to a half sitting position, the horrific wound in his neck still bleeding in pulses with each beat of his heart.

Mary dropped to her knees in front of him and stripped off her overshirt then balled it up and pressed it to the wound, speaking desperate words through numb lips. “No! No! No! Hold on, Sam. Just hold on. Help! Help me!” Her voice was a shout as she called for someone to come and save them from the nightmare.

Sam’s eyes slid closed and Mary pressed down harder. “Stay awake, Sam! Open your eyes!”

Sam didn’t obey, but his lips parted, and Mary thought he was trying to speak. She leaned close to him and heard his whispered words. “It’s done.”

She pulled back. “No. Don’t you dare do this. Look at me, Sam!”

Sam’s lips parted, but he didn’t speak again. His breath exhaled slowly and there was no new indrawn one.

Mary screamed, pushing harder against his wound as if that could help, her mind reeling.

Someone put their arms around her, and she fell back into the embrace, not caring who it was, just needing someone else to hold her upright. Hands smoothed her hair, and then tugged on her wrist, pulling her hands a way from Sam’s neck. She couldn’t resist the strength, and her cold and bloody hands fell to her lap.

Her screams died, and she began to sob instead. The person holding her spoke comforting words that she couldn’t take in. Her son was dead.

Sam was dead.

She couldn’t make herself believe it, not even as she looked at his perfect stillness, the deep gash on his neck and the blood that soaked him. She couldn’t accept that it was over. There was no way to save Sam from this. Castiel couldn’t bring him back. There was no one. He was really gone.

“I was supposed to take care of him,” she moaned. “Dean trusted me to.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” The voice came from behind her, and she finally realized who was holding her, attempting to comfort. It was Ketch. “No one could have stopped him.”

“You were supposed to be watching him,” she said accusingly, feeling some small, bitter relief for laying the blame on someone else. 

“He was too fast,” Ketch said. “He knocked Kevin to the floor and picked up the chair before I could get around the bed to him. He knocked me out and then…”

“He punched the mirror,” Kevin supplied. “And pulled out a shard. I was scared to move in case I made him do it, but…”

“I came,” Mary said, her mind filling with horror. “I tried to stop him.” She had made him do it.

“Nothing any of us could have done would have stopped him,” Ketch said. “He was determined.”

Mary shoved him away from her and fell towards Sam again, her hands coming up to his cheek and cupping it. “Go away,” she said. “Both of you. Leave us alone.”

She didn’t look back to see them leave, but she heard the door creak and Ketch say, “I’m sorry, Mary.”

“Leave,” she said again.

The door clicked closed, and she chanced a glance over her shoulder to check they’d gone. They had. She and Sam were alone.

“I’m sorry,” she said, stroking Sam’s cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

Though her voice was a whisper, it seemed too loud for the silent room. The only sounds made were her own. Sam was perfectly quiet, perfectly still.

She felt the tears streaking down her cheek, and she made no move to wipe them away. She had no will to do anything but touch her son, reach for him as if she could reach right into the veil and bring him back. She couldn’t believe it had happened. She had been so hopeful when he’d woken up, she’d felt sure that he was doing better, and now he was dead. How was she supposed to keep going after that?

On the heels of that question came another. How was she supposed to tell Dean? This would kill him, too. He would never be able to live with this; she had seen that in the other world. When he’d told her he was going back for Sam’s body, it wasn’t to recover; it was to join him. It was a suicide mission.

She was going to lose them both, and it was her fault. She should have stayed still, spoken to him, talked him down. Because she had acted, he had done it. She might have had a chance of stopping him otherwise. Her mistake had cost her one son, and she would surely lose the other when he found out.

“Why, Sam?” she moaned. “Why did you do this?”

There was no answer, there could never again be an answer, and that thought made her bow over as the force of her sobs took the strength from her. Her head fell against Sam’s knee, and she pressed closer to it.

“Oh, Sam…” she moaned. “I could have saved you.”

She hadn’t though. She’d made it happen. Now Sam was dead, and there was no getting him back.

He was really gone.


	21. Chapter 21

Castiel watched Dean as he worked, listening to him humming. He had the trunk of the Impala open and was drawing in sigils that would help them to incapacitate Lucifer further. They were designed to repel an angel, and ordinarily would have had no effect on an archangel, but in his weakened state, they would successfully drain Lucifer of whatever power was left. They’d backed up Rowena’s magical restraints with the angel handcuffs, and he was effectively pinned and powerless. Between Jack and Rowena, they’d completely debilitated him.

The success of their mission had a marked affect on them all. They still felt the same hatred towards the archangel, but it was tempered now with relief and satisfaction at his defeat. He had posed a threat and he been suitably dealt with. Just as soon as Sam was in a position to see it, he would be killed and the fight with him would be over. They would have won.

It also bolstered their hopes for when they faced Michael. They knew Jack could defeat him now.

Dean stepped back from the trunk and looked down at Lucifer. “Your coffin is ready, bag of bones.”

Lucifer glared at him. “And I’m sure it’s nice and comfy.”

Jack hauled him to his feet, his broken body making unpleasant crunching sounds, and shoved him toward the trunk where Dean waited to manhandle him inside.

Castiel’s phone rang in his pocket, and Castiel pulled it out and frowned at the caller ID. It was Ketch.

“Hello?”

 _“Where are you?”_ Ketch asked.

“We’re at Stull Cemetery,” Castiel said. “We’re leaving soon. We’re bringing something back with us.”

Ketch didn’t ask what it was, and that surprised Castiel. _“Are you near Dean?”_

“Yes.”

_“Get away from him.”_

“How?” Castiel asked.

_“Tell me there’s a bad connection.”_

Confused and growing worried, Castiel said, “I can barely hear you. Hang on.” He walked away toward the chapel and held out his phone as if checking the signal then brought it to his ear again. “You can talk now.”

 _“Something has happened,”_ Ketch said soberly. _“Sam is dead.”_

Castiel spun on his heel, concealing himself from Dean as his face crumpled. “No!”

_“Yes. He killed himself.”_

Castiel drew a breath into lungs that felt empty and felt the air fill his aching chest. “How did this happen?”

 _“He was too fast and too strong,”_ Ketch said curtly.

“You were supposed to take care of him!”

_“Do you really think I don’t know that already? I am more than aware of what I was supposed to do. I know my part in this._

Castiel couldn’t believe this. Sam couldn’t be dead. Not now they had Lucifer. This was supposed to help him. They were going to win. They would have reached Sam, and they could have worked out how to help him together. This was wrong. They’d been so close.

 _“I don’t want to tell Dean this on the phone,”_ Ketch said. _“But you’ll need to tell him when you arrive here so he doesn’t see it first. He’ll need to be prepared. Can you do that?”_

Castiel groaned. He didn’t want to be the one to do this. He had seen what became of Dean when Sam was lost, and it was a crushing thing. How was he supposed to deliver the news that it had happened again, and that this time there was no miracle save? The demons would not deal now they were serving Lucifer again, even if they were capable of saving him, and Billie would not help. Castiel couldn’t bring him back. If only Jack had the ability. His powers were more honed now than ever before. If only he knew how.

Then Castiel gasped. One night, in a quiet explanation by the fire of what had happened when she had been with Dagon, Kelly had told Castiel she tried to end her own life, but Jack had saved her. That was when she’d realized he was good. She’d known he loved her. He had saved her _because_ he loved her. He loved Sam, too. Was it possible he could save him? Castiel felt a surge of hope. “I’m sending Jack,” he said.  

 _“Can he help?”_ Ketch asked.

“I don’t know. I hope so. We have to try.  Don’t let anyone tell Dean. Make sure Mary doesn’t call him.”

_“Believe me, Mary is in no condition to do anything right now, let along make phone calls.”_

Castiel’s heart clenched. Mary must be going through hell.

“Take care of her,” he said. “Jack will be there soon.”  He ended the call and took a breath, before calling across the field, “Jack. I need you a minute.”

Jack came over, a bounce in his step. He had been elevated by what he had achieved over Lucifer, and Castiel hated that he had to destroy that with this news.

When he got closer, Jack asked, “What’s wrong?”

Castiel realized he hadn’t concealed his shock and sadness as well as he’d thought, and he focused on smoothing his features.

“I have something to tell you, and I need you to control yourself,” he said. “You can’t react. Dean can’t see.”

Jack looked afraid. “What’s happened?”

“Can you control yourself?” Castiel asked, walking around Jack so that Dean wouldn’t see Jack’s face.

“Yes,” Jack said quickly. “Tell me.”

“Sam has hurt himself,” Castiel said. “It’s serious. I need you to heal him.”

Jack’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t heal!”

“You can,” Castiel insisted. “You saved your mother’s life before you were even born. You need to do the same for Sam. You’re powerful enough, Jack. You have to do this. Just focus on what you want, see his wound and imagine it healed. Remember how it feels to love him and think of how much you want it to work.”

“I’ll try.”

“You must do it,” Castiel commanded. “We can’t lose him.”

“I know.” Jack raked a hand over his face. “I will.”

“Go now,” Castiel said.

Jack nodded and disappeared.

Castiel drew a breath and walked back towards the cars where the others waited. Dean was slamming the trunk, grinning from ear to ear. His smile faded slightly when he saw Castiel was alone. “Where’s Jack?”

Castiel looked at his friend and tried not imagine how he would look if Jack failed. “Ketch called. They have small demon signs around the bunker, and they’re worried. I sent Jack to reinforce their protection.”

Dean frowned. “They’re that worried about a few demons? That doesn’t sound like Mom.”

“I think she’s worried about leaving Sam to take care of it. She and Ketch are going to stay with him.”

Dean shrugged. “Okay. That’s fair, I guess. Lucifer isn’t going anywhere. Between me, Rowena and my baby, he’ll be staying put.” He grinned again. “We’ve done it, Cas. We got him. Jack took care of it like a pro.”

“Yes,” Castiel said, forcing a smile for his friend. “He did.”

He only hoped he could do it again.  

xXx

Jack arrived in the library of the bunker and saw Kevin and Maggie sitting at a table, a glass of whiskey in front of Kevin that he was toying with. He looked shell-shocked and sickened, and Jack swallowed hard. He’d known it was bad from Castiel’s reaction, but now he saw that it was even worse that he’d imagined.

He rushed through the hall towards Sam’s room, almost bumping into Charlie who was leaving the room with a bucket of bloody rags, her head bowed. She looked up at Jack and said, “I’m really sorry,” gently.

Jack pushed past her and Ketch who was standing sentinel at the door, and into the room.

He’d tried not to imagine what he was going to come into, but his mind had presented him with images anyway, Sam bleeding, Sam unconscious, Sam broken, but he hadn’t even pictured the scene of horror that awaited him in his worst moments.

There was a huge bloodstain on the floor in front of the wall that looked as if someone had tried to scrub it away. There were red stains in the sink and blood tinged water around the drain. Mary was sitting on the bed, holding Sam’s hand that crept from the sheet that concealed Sam’s face.

He was dead.

Jack has seen people hurt before, he’d seen them die, but this was infinitely worse as it was Sam, whom he loved.

“Cas just said he was hurt,” Jack breathed.

Mary looked up at him, her face racked with sadness and tears in her eyes. “Are you all back? Is Dean?”

Jack shook his head. “Cas sent me to help.”

Mary’s wet eyes widened. “You can save him?”

“I don’t know,” Jack admitted. “I’ve never done this before. Well, apparently I healed my mother before I was born, so Cas thinks maybe I can.”

“Try!” Mary said desperately. “Please, Jack, save my son.”

Jack walked to the side of the bed and reached for the sheet with shaking hands. He pulled it back to Sam’s bare chest and looked at the horrendous wound on Sam’s neck. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, but the torn flesh inside was red and raw looking. 

Jack hadn’t seen Castiel heal before, but he had seen him use his powers and thought he knew how it should look. Castiel had told him to focus on what he wanted—the wound to heal—and how much he loved Sam.

He laid a hand over the wound, careful not to touch it, and imagined it closed with new skin. He concentrated, but there was no light as he had seen when he’d used his powers before or warmth leaving him. There was nothing. He focused harder, remembering all the times Sam had helped him, trusted him, made him feel loved and had been loved in return, and willed it to happened. There was still no surge of power.

He moved his hand over Sam’s chest, over his heart, and imagined it beating again, sending his body the life-giving blood it needed. He still felt nothing, and he closed his eyes and thought of how much he needed it to work, how much he needed Sam. He failed. Sam remained as still as he had before, and his heart remained silent.

“It won’t work,” he moaned.

Mary started to cry, harsh sobs that shook her shoulders and made her breaths come in gasps. 

“I’m sorry,” Jack said desperately. “I’m so sorry. There’s nothing there. I can’t do it.” He looked down at Sam. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

Mary shook her head, still sobbing, and gasped, “I knew it really. Sam got what he wanted in the end. He couldn’t bear it, so he stopped. I failed him.”

Jack walked around the bed and put his arms around her. She collapsed against him, unable to hold herself up, and Jack held her tightly, wishing there was more he could do than just give comfort.

He remembered how it had felt to lose his mother and Castiel, how alone he had felt and how Sam had helped him. Sam told him what to say, how to say goodbye to them, and he wanted to say it now, but he didn’t think Mary would be able to bear it. All he could do was look at Sam and will him to come back.

xXx

Dean knew there was something wrong with Castiel. He seemed stressed and, at times, sad, before marshalling himself again and pasting on a smile.

Dean wondered if he was worried about Lucifer still. He’d said that Lucifer was locked down so tightly he didn’t have a chance of escape when they’d left, and Dean agreed with him, but he guessed it was such a huge step to have Lucifer that some tension was to be expected from his friend.

Dean felt elated. For the first time since Michael had come through that rift, he thought things were all going to work out. Jack was more than a match for Michael, and seeing Lucifer defeated had to help Sam. He would be taking back the control after what happened to him, and that would make a difference. He knew it wouldn’t be a magical cure, Sam’s soul wouldn’t be healed, but he would be better than he was now. They would work from there to really help him.

“We’re close,” he told Castiel seeing the factory that stood over the bunker in the distance. “We’ll get Lucifer locked up and then we can work out how we’re going to handle him and Sammy.”

“Yes,” Castiel said vaguely.

Dean frowned. “You could sound a little happier, Cas. This is a big deal.”

It is,” he agreed. “If Sam can be helped, I will be very happy.”

Dean drove them on and then stopped outside the entrance to the bunker’s garage. He got out of the car, walking to the large doors and using the key to unlock them before going back to the car to drive them inside. Bobby followed them in Mary’s car, stopping to close the door behind them while Dean carried on to the garage where he parked the Impala and climbed out.

He walked to the back of the car and slapped the trunk. “Hey, Satan. We’re home. You ready to get comfy in the dungeon?”

He put the key in to unlock it, but Castiel placed his hand on the trunk and said, “Wait a moment, Dean. There’s something we need to talk about first. There is something I need to tell you, and I need you to hold on. You have to be strong.”

“What’s happened?” Dean asked, his heart increasing its pace in his chest. He thought he knew the _who_ of what was going on but he didn’t know the what, and he was afraid to ask.

Castiel took a breath, preparing himself to answer, but then the door opened in front of them and Jack came towards them. His face was streaked with tears and his eyes were red. At Castiel’s intense questioning look, he shook his head slightly and Castiel breathed in shakily.

“What’s going on?” Dean said, his voice rising to a shout.

“Something happened while we were gone,” Castiel said. “Sam was hurt. It’s serious. He… he died, Dean.”

The blood drained from Dean’s face and he swayed. Castiel supported him with a hand on his arm. Dean shrugged him off and started walking away, staggering, to the door.

“Wait, Dean!” Castiel called after him.

Dean broke into an unsteady run. He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to see Sam. He couldn’t be dead. They had to be wrong.

He raced to the halls that led to Sam’s room and skidded to a halt outside the door. Ketch was standing there, his eyes somber and his voice quiet as he said, “I am sorry, Dean.”

Dean flung open the door and stepped inside. He caught his breath at what he saw inside. Mary was sitting beside Sam on the bed, cupping one of his hands between her own, her face pale and shocked. Sam was lying flat, covered to the waist by a sheet, his skin waxy and his chest deathly still. There was a deep gash in his neck.

“No!” Dean gasped.

Mary turned to him and she looked wrecked. “Dean…”

Dean swayed and Mary rushed to him. She put an arm around him and guided him to sit on the side of the bed. Dean’s eyes fixed on his brother, almost as if he could bring him back with sheer force of will.

Someone was speaking, saying Sam’s name with increasing desperation. The sound tore at Dean’s heart, and he wished they would stop, but they didn’t until Mary wrapped her arms around him and stroked his back, shushing him. He realized it was him, and his breath caught in his throat. 

“What happened?” he asked, realizing as soon as the words left him that it didn’t matter.

“He did it to himself,” Ketch said from the doorway. “He cut his throat with a piece of glass from the mirror.”

“You were supposed to take care him,” Dean said, no heat to his words. Shock and grief had stolen all other emotion from him.

“I know,” Ketch said. “I’m very sorry. He knocked me out before I had a chance.”

Dean wondered how Sam had managed that, weak as he was, then he remembered the strength Sam had when he’d been slamming his head into the wall, how hard it had been for Dean to hold him down. His determination had given him strength then, and it had this time, too.

“It was my fault,” Mary said.

Dean stiffened. “What did you do?”

She released him and straightened. “I wasn’t here when he broke the mirror. I had gone to get him food. He seemed better when he woke up, seeing rather than staring, and I thought I could get him to eat. I heard the crash, and when I came back, he had the glass. I tried to stop him, and that was what made him do it. If I’d been more careful, I could have talked him down. I think he was really hearing me.”

Dean shook his head. It would have helped him to have someone to blame, anyone but himself, but he knew whose fault it was. He had left Sam to Ketch and Mary when it should have been him there. He would have been able to save him.

Suddenly there was a shout in the hall, Rowena saying, “Get out of my way!”

She ran into the room and went straight to the other side of the bed. She began to move her hands over Sam’s body, purple light glowing from her palms, and muttering words Dean didn’t understand.

Dean held his breath. He’d never seen her doing anything like this before, not heal or save, but the slightest chance that she could made his heart race.

Rowena shook her head and stepped back. For a moment she looked defeated, and then her eyes widened. “Arthur! Give me a piece of that mirror!”

Ketch obviously hesitated or took too long, as she snapped, “Now!” and he leaned over the bed to hand it to her.

Rowena lifted her skirt, exposing a swath of pale thigh, and sucked in a breath before cutting into her flesh with the piece of glass, sending blood flowing down her leg. She dropped the glass and pressed her fingers into the wound.

“Rowena!” Ketch said, sounding stunned, and she shook her head.

She pulled out something small and bloody and then reached over to Sam and shoved it into the wound on his neck.

“Heal it, Castiel!” she commanded.

“I can’t,” Castiel said from behind Dean.

“Then someone stitch it up!”

Dean snapped back to life. “The medical bay, Cas. There are suture kits in the drawer beside the sink.”

He heard rather than saw Castiel run from the room, and Dean looked at Rowena who was clutching her bloody thigh.

“Will that work?” Ketch asked her.

“I don’t know,” she said. “The magic usually comes when the life force ebbs, but it might be able to do it if it’s not been too long.”

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Ketch said.

Rowena laughed shakily. “Neither can I, but I felt like I had to. He needs to be alive to kill me one day, after all. I don’t want to live forever; that would be very boring. Though I’m in no hurry, so if you could keep him away from me until I’ve procured another charm, I’d be grateful.”

Castiel ran into the room and slapped a suture pack into Dean’s hand. “Here.”

Dean tore it open with his teeth and knelt on the bed to get a better angle on Sam’s neck. He turned Sam’s face so the wound was easier to reach, and then began to make rough stitches into his skin as fast as he could. It was going to scar horribly but if Sam was alive to complain about it, Dean would never care. If he could complain at all it would be a miracle.

He cut the thread and pressed his fingers to Sam’s throat, waiting for the thrum of life.

“It won’t happen yet,” Rowena said. “It takes time to work. It took me hours after Lucifer broke my neck, even longer the second time he killed me.”

“But will it work?” Mary asked intensely.

Rowena pressed her hand over the wound and concentrated a moment. “It’s trying. I can feel the magic. We’ll have to hope and pray.”

“Pray?” Dean asked scathingly.

Rowena nodded. “Now might be a good time to put a call in to your friend Chuck.” She sank onto the edge of the bed and said, “A little help here, Castiel.”

“Of course,” Castiel said quickly, moving to her side and holding a hand over her wound to heal it.

“Thank you,” she said when he stepped back. “If you’ll all excuse me, I’d like to change into something a little less macabre.” She got to her feet and walked to the door.

Dean’s eyes followed her, and as she paused to look back at Sam, he said, “Thank you, Rowena,” fervently.

She smiled. “Watch him. Wait for him. And pray for him.”

Dean grimaced. Chuck had let them down so many times already that he didn’t want to open himself up to another letdown.

“I mean it, Dean. The magic might or might not work, and we need all the help we can get.”

Dean nodded and moved a little closer to Sam. He gave his brother a long searching look and then closed his eyes and reached out to a being he wasn’t even sure was listening.

_“Chuck, we need you, and this time you’ve got to come through. It’s Sam…”_

xXx

Chuck and Amara were side by side, staring at the new stars being born in the Andromeda Galaxy.

They were 2.5 million miles from earth but, even with the beauty and magnificence in front of him, Chuck’s thoughts were in Lebanon, Kansas, with a small family in crisis.

“The stars look like the angels’ grace,” Amara said.

“They do,” Chuck agreed. “That was what the angels looked like at the point of their creation. I wanted that again when I created the solar system, so I made the light and color the same.

“They’re beautiful.”

Chuck nodded. “I love the stars. They can be seen all over the universe, and even when the clouds hide them, you know they’re there, looking down on them.”

Amara frowned. “That’s unusually poetic for you, brother. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Chuck said quickly.

“I know you better than that. It’s something. You have been different for a while, but today you’re even more so. Where are you?”

“I’m here.”

“No, you’re not, not really. What are you thinking?”

“I am thinking of earth,” Chuck admitted. “Things are happening there. The Winchesters… Michael from another world has reached theirs, and there are other… problems.”

“We should go back.”

“We can’t. They need to do this alone. They have before. Jack can defeat Michael, and Lucifer is practically powerless now. They can stop that. And the other things… Sam will live.”

“Live!” Amara gasped. “What’s happened to him?”

“He killed himself,” Chuck said.

“What? Why would he do that?”

“He had his reasons. Rowena has saved him though. He just needs a little time, and I think he will be a little better after. He’s going to see an old friend that will help him”

“But they need us. Dean needs us. If Sam is hurt, we have to help them. We owe them, brother. Dean brought us together again.”

“He has his mother, and Castiel and Jack. They can support each other through this. They don’t need us.”

“If you believed that, you wouldn’t feel the way you do now,” Amara said.

Chuck shook his head. He couldn’t go back to them. They could do this. Sam would be better when he came back, at least a little.

“I want to show you something else,” he said. “There is a supermassive black hole moving through the Milky Way.”

“There is a family that needs us on earth,” Amara countered.

“They have each other,” Chuck said. “They don’t need us when they have that.”

He moved on, passing through the newly created stars, knowing she would follow him.  

After a moment, she did.


	22. Chapter 22

**_Chapter Twenty-Two_ **

 

Dean was staring at Sam so hard his eyes were blurring. He wanted to see the moment it worked, the moment Sam came back. He wanted to be the first person Sam saw.

He knew it might not work, Rowena had only said the magic was trying, but Dean couldn’t allow himself to think of it failing. He alternated praying and willing Sam to wake up in equal measure.

Mary and Castiel were with him. Mary sat on the opposite side of the bed, and Castiel stood closer to the door. Dean knew Castiel was giving them space with Sam, not wanting to intrude, but Dean didn’t care how close he was. Castiel was family, just as much as Jack and Kevin were. They all loved Sam, and he loved them in return. Or he had. Dean didn’t know what he would feel when he woke up. He might still be as shut down as before. He hoped for more, but he was already asking Chuck for one miracle—Sam’s life—and he didn’t want to add more that may make him turn away from them completely. 

Mary suddenly called out in shock and pressed her hand to her mouth. “Look, Dean!”

Dean blinked and allowed his eyes to refocus on Sam. He didn’t see what she meant at first, looking only at Sam’s face, which was as still and waxy as before, but then purple light crept up his neck, and Dean gasped.

“It’s working!” he said, his voice weak with shock. “It’s really working!”

Mary touched Sam’s face and nodded, tears filling her eyes. “He’s warm again. Properly warm, not like he was."

Dean touched Sam’s cheek and felt the warmth there, too. He wasn’t breathing, and when Dean checked there was no heartbeat, but he felt something.

“It’s different,” he said. “He feels like himself again.”

“Do you think he really will be?” she asked, and Dean knew she didn’t just mean physically.

Dean looked over his shoulder to Castiel who had come closer to the bed. “Could this have done it? Could he be better?”

“Rowena’s magic could not have healed his soul, no, but perhaps it could bring him out of himself again, work like a reset to his mind.”

Dean nodded and turned back to Sam. He was afraid to hope for too much, but he couldn’t help but wish it could be more than Sam’s life that was returned. He could be aware again.

The fact that Dean might be able to look him in the eyes and know Sam was really seeing him too was an incredible thought. It made his chest feel lighter, as if the pain that had been weighing it down had been lifted a little.

“Why isn’t he breathing yet?” Dean asked.

“Rowena said it took time,” Castiel pointed out. “His injuries were severe. Something is happening though; let that be enough for now.”

It should have been enough, but Dean was impatient. He felt that Sam was so close now, just out of reach, and if he tried a little harder, stretched himself closer, he would reach him and have him back.

“What are we going to do, Dean?” Mary asked.

Dean looked at her and saw that she looked afraid. “What do you mean? We wait until he’s back, awake, and do what he needs from there.”

“No, I mean how do we know he won’t do something like this again?”

Dean ran a hand over his face roughly. “We don’t,” he admitted. “He might. We have to be prepared in case he does. We’ll get Rowena to power up the charm again, and we stay with him.” He looked over his shoulder. “You stay with him, Cas. You’ve got the best chance of stopping him if he tries something.”

Castiel nodded. “Of course.”

“Do you think he’ll need the charm again?” Mary asked, sounding horrified.

“I sure as hell hope not, but we can’t rely on us being here only. He wasn’t alone when he did this to himself.”

“I only left him for a moment,” Mary said quickly. “I thought I would be able to get him to eat something. He really did seem better. I had no idea he was going to do this.”

“None of us knew,” Dean said. “I thought what happened with Jody was about pain. I thought what he was feeling inside made him want to divert it to physical. I had no idea he was trying to kill himself. I don’t blame anyone for this. Not even Ketch. Sam was determined, and he’s smart. You can’t stop him when he sets his mind to something. At least I’ve never found a way.”

“It’s no one’s fault,” Castiel said. “It was Sam that made a choice. We will not allow him to make it again. I will stay with him.”

“What about Lucifer?” Mary asked. “Don’t you need to be with him. too?”

Castiel shook his head. “Jack can control him. In truth, Kevin could control him the state he’s in now. Rowena has him bound with magic, Jack has broken his body, and he is chained to a chair with feet of iron chains carved with sigils. He is truly trapped.”

Mary nodded. “I can’t quite believe he’s here. I want to hurt him, _kill_ him, for what he’s done.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I was never this person before. Even growing up hunting, I never felt hatred for the things I killed. They were just monsters. It wasn’t until I was brought back that I knew what it felt like to be murderous. What the Men of Letters did to us, what Lucifer did, and Michael, has changed me.”

“None of us are who we were before this happened,” Dean said. “I have been murderous before, a long time really, ever since I was a kid and Dad explained that it was a monster that killed you. I wanted to kill that monster—and I did—but it didn’t end there. There was always something new to hate, something new to kill, and it changed me more and more. But I have _never_ hated anyone or any _thing_ as much as I hate Lucifer now. He tortured Sam, killed him, and that was bad enough, but he took his chance at peace, too. He destroyed his soul. He’s going to pay for that. I just wish _I_ could kill him myself.”

Castiel nodded solemnly. “We can’t, but Jack can, and he will be doing it for Sam, and I think he will do it in the most painful way he can. There are more people that care about Sam than us in this room—I believe even Rowena cares now—and we all want Lucifer to suffer.”

Dean nodded stiffly. He would watch Lucifer die, smile doing it, and he would make sure his brother knew it was over, even if he couldn’t see it happen himself. Then, when that was done, he would find Michael and watch Jack kill him, too. And after that, when they finally could, he would put everything he had into ensuring Sam had some form of peace, even if it wasn’t all he wished he could have.

He would take care of his little brother. 

xXx

Sam had known he had to act, but he had never imagined this would be waiting for him when he did.

He’d been scared, both for himself and the world. Dean’s ghost had come to him and said there was work to do, and Sam knew that meant Michael and Lucifer. He would have stopped them if he could, but he was one man without a single weapon that could have overpowered either of them. He had no chance of winning, and he couldn’t bear to watch them destroy the world, so he had allowed himself to be weak and give up.

But that hadn’t worked as well after the rift. He had peace in the other world, but in his own, the ghosts were more vocal and present. He heard them all the time, even though he couldn’t always hear the words. There was no escape, and that had tortured him. When he’d realized what Dean meant when he’d seen him and Castiel, that the work to do was because the world was ending, he’d been in agony. Then to see Kevin’s ghost was too much. He had to stop.

It had been automatic from there. He wasn’t even sure how it had happened, but one moment he was forcing himself out of his own mind, the next he was bleeding out from the neck, his mother’s ghost in front of his eyes. The had come lethargy, and then this place, and he didn’t understand how he was here.

It was Heaven.  

He was in a field he remembered from a long-ago memory of the Fourth of July, sitting on the hood of the Impala, wishing he wasn’t alone.

It made no sense for him to be here when Dean was in the Veil. If anyone deserved Heaven, it was Dean. Perhaps that was the point. In the Veil, Sam might have found him, he could have had some semblance of peace. Here, alone, was worse than the Empty had been. At least then he’d had Crowley, even knowing what he was heading back to each time the Entity came for him. In this field, there was no one there with him, and he had to sit there and wait for the person that could never come join him because he was trapped in a half-life. 

Perhaps it was worse than Hell even.

Sam stared up at the sky full of stars and remembered all the times he had done it before. He’d had Dean with him then, and it had been during the rare peaceful times between hunts. There were no more hunts, no more Dean, and the stars taunted him.

He couldn’t retreat into his own mind to protect himself this time. He’d tried already, but Heaven wouldn’t allow him that escape. He had to feel what had happened.  That was his punishment for giving up.

He looked down at his clasped hands and saw them shake. He concentrated on stopping it, but they still tremored. He was still scared. He’d thought leaving the world and his ghosts behind, he would be leaving the fear, too.

Suddenly, he heard a voice, and he started.

“Wondered when you’d show up here.”

He turned and saw Bobby walking towards him. He was smiling in greeting, and when he reached him, he put his arms around Sam and patted his back. Sam froze, not relaxing even when Bobby released him and came to lean on the hood beside him.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here already?” Bobby asked. “It didn’t seem like it had been that long, and you don’t look much different to the last time I saw you.”

Sam drew a breath and then, failing to find the words to answer, redirected. “What are you doing here? Did you get out of your heaven again?”

“My heaven…” Bobby said musingly. “That was nice while it lasted. No. After I helped you boys, I got booted out of my place. I have to wander everyone else’s now. I’ve been here a lot, waiting for you boys to show up, but I didn’t think it would be so soon, and I was sure you’d be together like a Thelma and Louise. Though I guess it didn’t happen that way before. One of you always managed to pluck the other back.” He sighed. “Maybe this time he’ll learn his lesson.”

Sam looked away. He couldn’t bear to tell Bobby the truth.

“And you didn’t answer my question. What happened to you?”  

“Do you see anyone else?” Sam asked. “My dad?”

“No. And stop changing the subject. What _happened_ to you?”

Sam sighed. “I’m not sure as it was kinda a blur, but I think I cut my neck.”

“You mean like a shaving nick that went and got infected,” Bobby said doubtfully.

“No. I did it on purpose. Cut through my carotid.”

“Why the _hell_ would you do that?” Bobby roared.

“I had to make it stop, Bobby. I couldn’t bear it anymore.”

Bobby shook his head. “Nothing could have been bad enough to excuse you doing that. I’ve seen you on the ropes so many damn times. You had Lucifer whispering in your head day and night, but you didn’t give up. What the hell happened to make you do that to yourself?”

“Lucifer happened,” Sam said. “At least he started it. Michael played a part, too.”

“Lucifer and Michael are back?”

“Yeah. Michael is a version from a different world, but Lucifer is ours. He tricked Cas into letting him out of the Cage.”

Bobby swore. “I would have thought that damn angel would have known better. It’s not like he slept through the apocalypse.”

“He thought it was the only way to save the world,” Sam said.  

“Okay, I’m obviously missing most of the story here, so you fill me in.”

Sam raked a hand over his face. “I can’t, Bobby. Just trust me when I say it was bad.”

“Trust you?” Bobby laughed. “You just told me you cut your own throat. That doesn’t exactly make me want to trust anything from you, Sam. Tell me.”

Sam sighed and launched into the tale of everything Bobby had missed. He told him how they’d removed the Mark of Cain but it had released The Darkness. He told him about God coming back, and how Dean had reunited Him with His sister, how she’d repaid that by bringing Mary back. He explained what the British Men of Letters had done to them and about Jack. Then he came to the other world and faltered.

“There’s was another me leading a resistance of fighters angels?” Bobby asked.

“Yeah. He didn’t just look like you; he _was_ you.”

“Can’t have been that much like me if he thought fighting angels was the way to a long and happy life.”

“He didn’t,” Sam explained. “But he knew that fighting might save someone else’s life. He did what he had to do.”

Bobby nodded. “I guess. So, you and Dean went to this crazy world with Castiel and Gabriel to bring back your mom and Lucifer’s kid with some spell Crowley’s _mother_ performed. What happened then?”

Sam skipped over his death at the hands of the vampires and explained how they’d found Mary and Jack, gone to Bobby and persuaded him and his people to get out and regroup. He told him how he had stopped Lucifer going through the rift, how Michael had gotten through, and then trailed off.

“So you were with Lucifer, and Dean was in our world with Michael. I’m not sure who got the hottest end of the poker there.”

“Dean,” Sam said seriously. “Michael killed him. He killed them all. My mom and Castiel, Jack and Rowena, all the people they’d brought out of that other world. They didn’t stand a chance. Even Jack couldn’t stop him.”

“They _all_ died?” Bobby asked weakly. “Dean, too, really?”

“All of them,” Sam said.  

Bobby blew out a slow breath. “I’m sorry, Sam. I had no idea. I get it now, why you did what you did, but… Hold on. If you were with Lucifer in crazy world, how do you know what happened to them in our world?”

“I saw it,” Sam said quietly. “It was like a vision. I saw them die one by one.”

“You dreamed it,” Bobby said.

“No. Well, yeah, I was asleep, but it was like one of my old visions. It was so real. I saw it, heard it, felt it even. And then I saw them after.”

“You saw them?”

“Their ghosts. They came to me. They were trapped in the Veil. They told me I had to stop Michael, to give Lucifer the spell to get back to our world, but I knew I couldn’t so I…”

“You what?” Bobby asked, fixing him with a familiar look of frustration.

“I broke,” Sam said. “I let go and went into my own mind. It was better there, until we went through the rift, and then it got harder. I saw the ghosts all the time, more of them, so I had to make it stop.”

Bobby shook his head slowly. “You saw ‘ghosts’ so you slashed your throat.”

“Not just that. I couldn’t watch the world end.”

“You’re a damn idjit, Sam,” Bobby said, his voice rising. “You have the first vision in years—while you happen to be asleep which is also when perfectly normal, non-vision dreams happen—and then you started seeing ghosts when you came through the rift.”

“No, I saw them before.”

“When you were sleeping?”

“No, I was awake.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “For such a smart man, you can be incredibly stupid, Sam. Did it ever cross your mind that you might be wrong? That the vision was just a dream? That the ghosts were a dream? That when you came back and things got harder it was because you were actually with them again? If you were shut down in your own head, they would have seemed like ghosts.”

“No,” Sam said firmly. “I would have known.”

“Then why isn’t Dean here? Don’t give me bull about the Veil. If anyone deserves Heaven, it’s you two. He wouldn’t have been trapped anywhere.”

Sam shrugged. He had no answer to give.

“Tell me something,” Bobby went on. “While you and Lucifer were in that other world, what exactly did Lucifer do to you?”

Sam turned his face away. “He hurt me.”

“A repeat performance of the Cage, am I right?”

Sam nodded.

“Figured. So after you’re tortured under the knife of the cruelest creature any of us have ever seen, traumatized and desperate, you fall asleep and have this ‘vision’ of your worst fears coming true, and then you break. Don’t you think maybe that’s what Lucifer wanted to happen? To break you down and get that spell you were talking about? I doubt he was much happier to be there than you were. In fact, how do you know the ‘vision’ wasn’t him screwing with your head? Castiel wiped Dean from Lisa’s head. Is it that much of a stretch to believe an archangel could stick something in?”  

Sam looked at him, his lips parted with shock. It truly hadn’t occurred to him. He had believed it as soon as he’d seen it, knowing it to be true. Was that because it was a vision and he’d always believed in them after the terrible consequences of ignoring the first, or was it that he had been looking for a reason to give up all along? He’d been tortured by Lucifer, and he’d died countless times. Had he been that close to breaking that it had been easier to believe, to have the excuse, than to keep fighting back?

Bobby huffed out a breath. “Yeah. Now you’re getting it. So, breaking it down, you were saved from the other world somehow and taken back to Dean, and then you checked out on him until you killed yourself. Does that sound about right?”

Sam nodded, filled with shame.

“And now Dean is probably running around trying to find a way to get you back. Think he’ll be able to make another demon deal or is this going to take a whole new level of bad to save you?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said quietly.

“Exactly. You don’t know. Which means you’re going to have to save yourself before he has a chance.”

“How?” Sam asked.

“We go find ourselves an angel and make a deal. They probably want you on earth as much as I do. Things here are messed up, and you and Dean have a history of saving the world. Maybe you can save Heaven next.”

Sam hesitated. He wanted to be with his family again, but he was scared Bobby was wrong, that he was going back to that world to be surrounded by ghosts and the apocalypse again.

“I will drag you,” Bobby threatened.

Sam smiled slightly and pushed away from the car. He was halfway across the field, at Bobby’s side, when Bobby groaned. “Balls!”

“What?” Sam asked.

Bobby pointed at him. “We’re too late. Dean already did something.”

Sam looked up and saw a purple light spreading from his chest over his whole body, it felt warm and almost comforting.

“This isn’t Dean,” he said. “It’s Rowena.”

“Then I guess you’d better say thank you to her.” Bobby clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you again but, for your sake, it better not be for a long time.”

Sam smiled at him. “Thanks, Bobby.”

He felt the warmth rushing over him and then he was falling backward. Instead of hitting the ground, he felt firmness beneath him, and the sensation of something crushing his chest.

He was back, but it was into another world of pain.  


	23. Chapter 23

Sam’s first breath indrawn removed the weight from his chest, but the pain didn’t stop. He heard voices crying out in shock, and they beat at his eardrums, making him want to cover his ears, but he couldn’t move his hands. They felt, his whole body felt, raw and exposed, as if he had been flayed. That was one of Lucifer’s favorite games in the cage. He would peel the skin from Sam’s flesh, joking about how he was going to do it all in one long strip.

Sam cringed away from the memory, and he felt a tear slip from his eyes.

“He’s crying. Dean! Look, he’s crying!”

“Just give him a minute, Mom,” Dean’s voice replied. “It’s hard at first, coming back.”

It was Dean and Mary, and they sounded like themselves, even though their voices were too loud to him. Sam tried to think through the pain and fear he was feeling to make sense of it. The fact they were talking like this added to the credence of Bobby’s theory that they were real, not ghosts, but Sam knew he had to see them to know. He had to see if these words were a trick, if their eyes would share the same desperation and accusation they’d had before when Mary had pleaded with him to save the world, when Dean had said he was a coward. He’d not been wrong; Sam had been a coward then and was still now. He was too scared to open his eyes.

“Why isn’t he waking up?” Mary asked.

“It’s going to take time,” Castiel said, and his voice was gentle, too, not accusing as it had been before. “Rowena said it took a long time for her. We don’t know how much he is aware of yet. The tears could be a physical reaction, not an emotional one.”

“You’re okay, Sammy,” Dean said. “There’s no rush. Take your time. Do what you need to do.”

What Sam wanted to do was to withdraw again, to get away from this pain, but he couldn’t. He had come this far, and they seemed real, so he had to come the rest of the way. He focused on opening his eyes, and managed it, only to slam them shut as the bright overhead light blinded him.

“Sam!” Mary gasped. “Dean, did you see?”

“I saw. You’re doing it, Sammy. Don’t push yourself. Don’t, Mom!”

The warning, too loud, came too late. Someone touched Sam’s hand, a touch that was clearly supposed to be gentle but that flared Sam’s exposed nerves to life and pain. His eyes flew open and he skittered away from the touch, only stopping when his back hit something hard. He drew his knees to his chest and covered his head with his arms, bowing over to make himself as small as possible.

“Easy, Sammy,” Dean said. “You’re okay. No one is going to hurt you, I swear. It’s just me, Mom and Cas. There’s no one else. You’re safe.”

Sam tried to believe the words, to accept it was really his brother speaking, but the sensory overload and the way his heart pounded in his ears made it hard to take anything else in.

There was silence in the room but for the sound of breathing, and, slowly, Sam began to calm. His heart slowed and his breaths came easier. He opened his eyes but only saw the darkness of where his face pressed against his knees. Incredibly slowly, he lowered his arms to his side and looked up.

Dean was standing beside him, a little back from the bed, his hands raised in front of him in a non-threatening stance. Mary was on the other side, standing against the wall with her hands pressed against it as if holding them back from touching Sam again. Castiel stood further away, nearer to the closed door, and his expression was solemn. Sam quickly ducked his head again.

“Can I help?” Castiel asked.

“No, he just needs a minute,” Dean said, “Don’t you, Sammy?

Sam nodded.

“He’s responding,” Castiel said, sounding satisfied.

“He’s not deaf, Cas,” Dean said pointedly and Castiel apologized.

Sam looked at Dean, really looked at him, searching for any sign that he wasn’t really him, and Dean’s face split into a smile. “Hey, Sammy.”

Sam licked his lips and asked in a voice that rasped, “Are you really here?”

Dean’s smile grew. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one that was just brought back to life by a magic charm sewn into your neck.”

Sam brought a hand to the side of his neck and felt the scratch of stitches there. They felt strange to touch, but they didn’t ignite his raw skin. It seemed he could handle the sensation of touch when he was the one that initiated it. Every other part of him exposed to the air felt vulnerable still, though not as painful as before.

“I’m real,” Dean said seriously. “We’re all real. And so are you. Whatever Lucifer is telling you, it’s not true. He’s not real. He’s locked down and can never get near you again.”

Sam shook his head. “It’s not him. I don’t see him again. It’s just me.”

“Then you’re wrong, too.” Dean said with a small smile. “It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

This really was Dean. No ghost could ever get the replication as perfect as this. It was exactly what Dean would say. Sam felt himself smile in spite of himself, and Dean’s smile split his face as Mary sighed shakily beside him.

“Welcome back, Sam,” Castiel said.

Sam slowly lowered his knees and folded his legs in front of him, wanting to present a more reassuring picture. 

“How are you feeling?” Castiel asked.

Sam shrugged. He didn’t know how to put into words how exposed he felt, how the air on his skin hurt him but the mattress beneath didn’t. 

Mary came forward slowly and perched on the side of the bed, watching him warily. Sam forced himself not to cringe away from her, and she smiled, but when she reached out a hand to him, he flinched back.

“Sorry,” she said repentantly.

“No. I’m sorry.” Sam said. “It’s just… it hurts.”

Dean turned to Castiel. “Can you heal that?”

Sam shook his head quickly. He didn’t want the sensation of grace overwhelming him, and it wasn’t something Castiel could help with anyway.

“It’s not physical,” he said. “It’s Lucifer.”

“But you’re not seeing him?” Mary asked, her tone concerned.

“No. Not like that.”

Sam felt Lucifer close, as if he was looking over his shoulder, but he knew he wasn’t here. It wasn’t a hallucination. It was just the trauma lingering. 

He took a breath and asked hopefully, “Are you all alive? Is Jack?”

“We all are,” Dean said. “Even Kevin.”

“ _Our_ Kevin?” Sam’s mouth dropped open as he understood. That was why he had seen him before he’d hurt himself. He hadn’t been a ghost; he’d really been there.

Dean smiled at his reaction. “Yeah. It’s a long story.”

“Michael brought him back,” Castiel said.

Dean huffed a laugh. “Or not that long at all.”

“Why didn’t Michael kill you all?” Sam asked.

“We don’t know for sure,” Dean said. “He came through, blasted all of us onto the floor apart from Jack, and then disappeared.

“It must have been Jack,” Mary said. “He was the only one there that was a threat to him.”

Castiel nodded. “It must have been or he wouldn’t be avoiding us now; he’d be attacking. Only Kevin has seen him since, though we’ve been looking.” 

“What about Lucifer?” Sam asked, feeling his heart speeding up again and his breaths coming quicker.

“He’s in the dungeon. He’s never getting free again,” Dean assured him. “Rowena has him bound with magic, Jack has broken his vessel down to kindling, and there are about twenty feet of warded chains around him. I swear, he’s not going anywhere.”  

Sam was relieved that Lucifer had been caught and that he was trapped now, but he didn’t have the same confidence that he wouldn’t get free, Sam had thought it was over when he’d taken him to the Cage, but he’d gotten out of there with Castiel’s help. What if he somehow got free here? Sam wouldn’t be the only one tortured then. He’d have them all racks.

“Easy, Sammy,” Dean said gently in the tone he used when dealing with a skittish witness. “Take a breath.”

Sam realized he was on the verge of true panic again, and he forced himself to slow down his breaths, focusing on Dean’s exaggerated sighs, timing his breathing to his.

When he had calmed again, Castiel said. “Would you like to see Jack? He’s close.”

Sam considered before answering, testing himself to see if he could handle another person without spiraling back into panic. He thought he could, and he did want to see Jack, so he nodded and said, “Sure,” in a suitably confident way.

Castiel smiled and raised his voice to say, “You can come in now.”

The door opened slowly and Jack stepped inside.

Sam smiled, pleased to see him, but he was surprised by Jack’s reaction. Sam had expected him to be happy, too, but Jack’s face was taut with anger. Sam flinched back from it, and Dean said Jack’s name in a warning tone.

Jack shook his head and tried for a smile that came off as more of a grimace. He came closer to the bed, and Sam willed himself to hold still, not to cover his face to protect himself from this familiar look of hatred. And then Jack spoke, and Sam realized the anger wasn’t directed towards him.

“I will _kill_ him for this, Sam,” he said vehemently. “I swear, Lucifer will die. But I want you to see it happen.”

The thought of seeing Lucifer again, being close to him, made Sam shudder, but he quickly took control again.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Sammy,” Dean assured him. “You never have to see him again if you don’t want to.

Sam shook his head. “No, I think I want to see it,” he lied, knowing it was what Jack needed to hear. “But not yet, okay?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Jack said. “I’ll make sure he suffers till then.”

Sam appreciated the idea of Lucifer suffering like he had, but he didn’t like the way the words sounded coming from Jack. He had always been kinder, and he’d been warming to his father in that other world when Lucifer started crooning his lies, so much so that Sam had thought they were losing him, but now he sounded murderous.

“Thank you, Jack,” he said.

“What do you need?” Mary asked. “Can you eat something?”

Her eyes fixed on something above him, and Sam saw a yellow tinged IV bag hanging from a hook someone had nailed into the wall. He wondered how long he’d been here if they’d resorted to IVs. He decided he didn’t want to know. It didn’t matter how long he’d spent with Lucifer, how long he’d been here but gone; all that mattered was that he was back now, and he could start making it up to his family.  

“Yeah, I could eat,” he said, though his stomach rebelled at the idea.

Mary beamed, “I’ll get you something.” She darted from the room and Jack said, “I’ll help her.” He followed her and closed the door behind him. Sam was grateful. He assumed Kevin was somewhere close, too, and he wasn’t’ sure he was ready for another old face, no matter how much he’d missed him.

“Is there anything else you need?” Castiel asked. “Anything we can do?”

Sam shook his head. “No, I’m fine.”

He knew that neither Dean nor Castiel were convinced by what he said, understandably because he really wasn’t fine. But he was back, his family was really there, not ghosts, and Lucifer was trapped. They were together and safe, and Sam was never going on the rack again. That should have been enough for him, but Sam still felt scared.

What Lucifer did to him had done real damage, and though he hadn’t felt quite like this before, even at the worst of his hallucinations, he had seen something similar. When he’d been in his own head merging the versions of himself, soulless and Hell-damaged, the one that remembered the Cage had looked a lot like Sam felt, and he had been the representation of Sam’s ruined soul.

He wondered what remained of his soul now. He could ask Castiel to find out, but he thought the truth could bring him nothing but more pain, and Sam had enough of that for an eternity.

xXx

Michael felt like he was wasting time. He had immense power and strength available to him, but he was using it for small successes rather than putting his plans into action.

It was the nephilim’s fault. He was the one that made Michael cautious. He was the one true threat to Michael in this world, and it wasn’t until he had amassed his full army that he would be truly strong again.

To Michael’s benefit, the nephilim hadn’t been searching for him very hard. Michael was sure he would be able to sense him if he put his mind to it, but he hadn’t. Perhaps he was distracted by the reemergence of his father. If he was, it worked better for Michael. As much as he would like to be the one to kill Lucifer, he had to prioritize. Let the nephilim do it for him, keeping himself busy in the process, and Michael could scoop up the remaining angels when it was time. He was confident the nephilim would do it. He had the influence of Mary Winchester, and Michael had seen in Lucifer’s mind what he had done to her youngest son. The nephilim would kill his father to avenge her need. He’d been attached to her, and Michael had seen in her own mind how much she loved her sons.

While waiting, Michael was mulling over the problem of the demons. He wanted them all killed, to strip this world of their defiling presence, but he needed to go about it in a different way than he had before. He could not have wars on this earth as that had destroyed it in his world. They needed to be taken out in an orderly way that would protect the world for his future enjoyment. He still did not have a way to do that though.

He filled his time waiting by plotting and killing. He had recruited a pious man called David and was using him to summon crossroads demons. When they came, Michael killed them. It was a slow, plodding process, but it was at least something to do for the cause. Unlike Lucifer of his world, who had allowed others to prepare the destruction for him before the battle, Michael would not sit idle.

David buried his offering in the center of the crossroads and straightened up. “It’s ready, Lord Michael,” he said.

Michael nodded stiffly. He hadn’t been called Lord Michael in a long time, and though he’d not instructed the man to call him that, he liked it. In the early days of the wars there had been some humans, the devout and the scared, that had devoted themselves to his cause, informing on friends and family that were showing signs of subversion, of being sympathetic to the resistance or human-led armies. They’d called him Lord before they’d all been killed, some by angels that were just clearing the area of humanity, and some by their own friends and family in revenge for them helping the angels’ cause. The humans had turned on each other fast in those days. The host had never taken up the name after, knowing it was a tainted one as it came from humanity, so Michael had just been called by his name or Sir.

Michael sensed the demon coming, and he drew his blade. When it appeared, an olive-skinned man with wide red eyes, he walked forward and grabbed its shoulder, holding its meatsuit in place and using his grace to stop the demon leaving it.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked.

The demon nodded. “Michael.”

“And you heard I was coming?”

“We knew you were here. Lucifer told us.”

“You saw Lucifer?” Michael asked curiously. “When?”

“We were summoned to Kansas to meet with him and the angels that came from the other world. He wanted us to work together.”

Angels work with abominations! The idea made Michael’s grace recoil, but he supposed it made sense to Lucifer. He was the one that had created them after all. He wouldn’t mind grubbing around with the bottom feeders.

“What did you say?” Michael asked. “Did you agree?”

“We didn’t have a chance. Dean Winchester arrived with Lucifer’s son, and Lucifer told us to go. We haven’t heard more since.”

Michael nodded thoughtfully. That could be good news. If the nephilim had managed to capture Lucifer, it was only a matter of time until he was killed. That would enable him to recruit the rest of the angels to his cause.

He needed to know before acting though. He would assign Naomi the task of discovering Lucifer’s whereabouts somehow. She was efficient, far more than the other angels she’d slowly brought back to him.

“How many demons are there?” Michael asked, pressing the tip of his blade to the demon’s throat as a threat for him not to attempt to resist answering.

The demon licked his lips. “At the meeting with the angels there were hundreds of us, maybe a thousand, but in Hell there are legions trying to break free.”

Michael nodded thoughtfully, an idea occurring to him. In his world, Azazel and the other Princes of Hell had opened Hell and marched out the demons to war, and that had caused devastation to the planet, but if Michael could open a door, lead his angels to Hell to fight, the damage would be limited to that place. It wouldn’t matter if he destroyed Hell, as there would be no use for it when he was finished. “You have been very helpful,” he said.

The demon looked hopeful, “Can I go?”

“You can go…” Michael said. “…to the Empty.”

He shoved the blade through the demon’s chest, scorching flesh and organs with a blast of blue-white light. He withdrew the blade and pushed the demon to the ground then bent to wipe his blade on the demon’s shirt.

“That was very informative,” he said to himself.

“I am glad, Lord Michael,” David said. “May I…” He looked nervous now. “May I call my wife? I would like to know how my children are.”

“Of course,” Michael said magnanimously. “You can make the call. As it happens, I have things to do and may not require your services much longer.”

“I want to serve,” David said.

“And you will,” Michael said seriously. “There is always a use for the devout.”

David wasn’t of a line of vessels, but Michael already had plenty of them. Perhaps he would be useful for some other task in future. Michael would let him live for now, to call his family even, and then he would be put to work. They all would.

Michael had a plan now. 


	24. Chapter 24

**_Chapter Twenty-Four_ **

****

Dean was in the kitchen with Mary and Jack, watching as they made something for them all to eat. Mary was making soup while Jack prepared sandwiches.

Dean thought the soup was most likely to sit well in Sam’s stomach, but he didn’t want to spoil Jack’s buoyancy by telling him. He figured Sam would eat enough to please Jack but not so much that it made him ill. He was sensible about food, and he had to realize his stomach would have shrunk. The rest of them could eat the sandwiches.

Dean hadn’t eaten properly since Jack had brought Sam back, only sandwiches brought to him in Sam’s room. He’d drunk more coffee than anything. That would change now; they would all have a chance to take care of themselves and that felt good. It meant Sam really was back.

He wasn’t just back, he was doing well, too. He was talking and making eye contact, though he couldn’t bear to be touched, and Dean had noticed how he’d tried not to cringe when Mary has gotten too close to him. He figured that was normal though. Sam had been through hell, and it hadn’t even been an hour since he’d come back to life. That and the damage to his soul made Dean think it was a miracle that he was functioning as well as he was already.

Dean felt like he could finally breathe again. The suffocating worry that had laid on his chest since Michael had come through the rift was less. It wasn’t gone, but Dean thought, maybe, if Sam kept doing better, it would go eventually one day.

Jack stacked the last sandwich on a platter and said triumphantly, “I’m done.”

“They look good,” Dean said. “Thanks for this, Jack.”

Jack smiled. “It feels good to be able to help.”

“You have helped,” Mary said, looking up from the soup she was stirring. “If you hadn’t been able to overpower Lucifer, Sam would never have been able to have peace. He’d have known he was still out there, and that would have terrified him.”

Dean didn’t think peace was the word for what Jack had given Sam, but he didn’t dispute it. He thought Sam was lucky to have what he did. He hoped there would be more for him, but he was mindful of the damage to Sam’s soul that he knew they couldn’t heal. He didn’t know how much true peace he could have now.

“I’ll help him again,” Jack said seriously. “When I kill Lucifer, it will be over for him.”

Dean smiled, “It will help him.”

Jack nodded eagerly. “He said he wants to see it.”

“And he will,” Mary said. “When he’s ready. We can’t rush him. We need to be grateful that we have what we do.”

She was speaking carefully, and Dean realized she was more aware of Sam’s limitations that he’d thought. Like Dean, Castiel and Jack, she’d heard what Billie said; she knew as well as Dean did how bad it was. Dean guessed Jack just didn’t want to think of it which had made him so sure what he was seeing in Sam was more than it really was.  

“How is he doing now?” Mary asked Dean, as if she expected a marked change in her son in the minutes between her leaving him and Dean leaving. Though Dean supposed there had been.

“He’s cleaning up in the bathroom.”

“Alone?” she asked sharply.

“Cas is with him,” Dean said. “I told the others to stay out of the halls for now.”

Dean hated that he couldn’t give Sam more space than that, that Castiel had to stay with him, but they couldn’t risk leaving him alone. There was no way Dean was risking his life again, and Rowena hadn’t recharged the charm yet. He wanted to believe Sam wouldn’t hurt himself now he was doing better, but there was no way to be sure. Until they could be certain Sam was safe, Castiel would have to stay with him.

“I’ll go check on them,” he said, seeing Mary’s grateful look in return.

“We’ll be there soon,” Mary said.

Dean made his way from the kitchen and through the war room where Kevin was standing with Maggie. Dean noticed they were holding hands. Apparently, he’d missed that particular development of his friend’s life among the other chaos.

“Dean, you got a minute?” Kevin asked.

“Uh… okay.” Dean wanted to get to Sam, but he also knew he had to start paying attention to what else was happening in the bunker. “What’s up?”

“I want to make a run into town with Maggie,” Kevin said. “Just to the grocery store.”

“Sure,” Dean said distractedly. “Do what you like.”

Kevin beamed at him. “Thanks.”

Without giving Dean a chance to reply, Kevin dashed up the stairs, tugging Maggie along with him.

Dean carried on through the library where another person waited to waylay him. Bobby got up from his seat beside Charlie and said, “We need to talk.”

“Yeah, okay. What do you need?”

“It’s what we all need,” Bobby said. “What are we doing with the devil in the dungeon?”

“Jack’s going to kill him,” Dean said.

“When?”

Dean frowned, wondering why Bobby was asking something he already knew the answer to, and then he realized that he’d probably been left out of that line of planning for Lucifer.

“When Sam can watch it happen.”

“Okay,” Bobby said slowly. “I guess that’s fair. I’m glad he’s back now and doing better, according to your mother, but we can’t keep Lucifer here forever. When do you think Sam will be ready for it to happen?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said with a bite to his tone. “But we’re not doing it until he is. Lucifer can wait. He’s not a risk now we’ve got Rowena restraining him and Jack turning his body into a pack of crushed potato chips. It’s under control.”

“And what about Michael?”

Dean sighed. “Jack will kill him, too, when we find him. And if we don’t get there first, Billie will. It’s not ending good for him either way.”

“I want Jack to do it,” Bobby said firmly.

“Why?”

“Because it was my world he destroyed, and I want to see him suffer for it like I saw countless others suffer and die at his angels’ hands. The way you feel about Lucifer, how much you want him to hurt, that’s how we feel about Michael.”

Charlie nodded behind him, her eyes moving from the laptop to Dean’s. “We owe him.”

“Then Jack will do it,” Dean said. “You find him, we’ll go. You’ll get your payback, too.”

“Thank you,” Bobby said gruffly.

“Do you need anything else?” Dean asked, poised to get out of there to Sam again.

“No, go do what you need to do,” Bobby said. “We’ll find you when we’ve got something.”

Dean didn’t bother to thank him. He just hurried away along the hall to Sam’s room. The door was open and Castiel and Sam were absent. Not worried but cautious, Dean carried on along the hall to the bathroom. He pushed open the door and his heart sank at what he saw.

Sam was standing at the counter, the faucet running and water flowing down the drain as Sam stared into the large mirror, tears streaming down his face. Castiel was standing beside him, speaking softly, but Sam didn’t seem to be hearing him.

Dean sighed Sam’s name and walked to him, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder before quickly pulling it back when he remembered Sam’s aversion to touch. He turned off the faucet and said, “What’s wrong?”

Sam started, as if he hadn’t been aware that he had company in the room, and turned to Dean. The tears continued to slip down his face, and he made no attempt to wipe them away.

“He took all of me,” he said mournfully.

“No,” Dean said firmly. “You’re back.”

Sam shook his head and ran his hand down his chest, over his visible ribs. “He took me. It wasn’t enough for him to take my mind, he had to take my body, too.”

Dean forced himself to sound casual, to soften Sam’s reaction by being his normal self. “So you dropped a little weight. What does that matter? Mom will feed you up and you’ll be back to your beefy self in no time. You’ll need some real food though. No more salad crap for a while.”

Sam nodded, and Dean could tell his causal tone was working, making it seem less awful than it really was.

“I don’t know why I care,” Sam said. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“I don’t know either,” Dean said. “I was always the good-looking brother anyway.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “Sure you were.” His smile faded. “It just feels like another victory for him. He did those things to me, broke me down to nothing, and there was nothing I could do but refuse to give him what he wanted, but he got that anyway in the end. And now this…”

“It wasn’t your fault that he got the spell,” Dean said. “Naomi got it from you, and Castiel thinks she drilled it right out of your head. There was nothing you could have done to stop her.”

“None of it was your fault,” Castiel confirmed, and Sam turned to him, seeming to realize he was there for the first time. “Not the spell, not what Lucifer did to you, not what’s happening to you now. You went through hell again. You’re recovering.”

“Can I recover though?” he asked, his tone stilted, as if he was going against himself asking the question. “Can you tell what the damage is this time?”

Dean knew what he was asking, and he quickly shook his head. “We don’t need to talk about that, Sam.”

“I need to,” Sam said. “Cas, do you know?”

“I haven’t touched your soul,” Castiel said, in spite of Dean’s warning look. “But I did try to shift the damage Lucifer did to you. It was not possible. It was a part of your soul, not just damage done to it. I could find out the extent of the damage if you really wanted me to, but it goes against everything I want for you. You need to focus on what you have now, not what has happened to your soul. You already know enough about the damage to understand that, don’t you? You feel it.”

Sam nodded. “I’m glad you couldn’t take it from me again. I don’t want anyone else feeling this.”

Castiel glanced at Dean and he nodded slightly. They’d both known Sam wouldn’t have wanted it, though that hadn’t stopped them trying.

“And we don’t want you feeling it either,” Castiel said. “If there was a way to take it away, we would, but not even Billie can create another wall.”

“I wouldn’t want a wall,” Sam said quickly. “It would have broken eventually, and it would all have come back. That was worse than anything, being flooded with it like that. I never want to go through that again.”

Castiel looked stricken, and Dean knew they were thinking the same thing—what had happened the last time Sam had been flooded with Hell.  

“I am so sorry, Sam,” Castiel said with a hitch in his voice. “I should never have done that to you.”

Sam shook his head. “It was only a matter of time before it broke anyway. Those memories, _these_ memories, were more powerful than something that could be created out of what was in my own head. I wasn’t strong enough”

Dean noted the way he said ‘these memories’, and he wondered what was happening in Sam’s head now. Was he seeing everything that had happened all the time, while he was talking to them even, or were they able to provide some distraction? Dean couldn’t bear to hear the answer, so he didn’t ask, but the thought that Sam could be living that hell now, with Dean and Castiel right there talking to him, made him feel sick.

Sam cleared his throat and rubbed a hand over his face. “I need to finish up.”

He started the water running again and splashed his face. Dean knew what he was doing, breaking the topic that had to torture him, and he rallied for something to do. When he realized there was something, he seized on it. “You clean up and meet me in room ten.”

Sam frowned. “Why?”

“I’m going to move your stuff to beside me,” Dean said. “It’ll be better to get you in a new room, somewhere… different.” He was going to say cleaner, as the room was stale now after days of them all being in there, but he thought Sam might connect it to the large bloodstain on the floor, and he didn’t want to remind him of that, even though it was a motivator of Dean’s idea. He wanted to move Sam out of the room he’d died in and lock the door on it so that no one at all went in there again.

“Okay,” Sam said. “I’ll be there soon.”

“You’d better,” Dean said. “Mom’s made soup, and she’ll still make you eat it, even if it gets cold.”

Sam smiled at him, a forced thing that Dean appreciated nonetheless. “I’ll be right there.”

Dean walked along the hall into Sam’s room and started gathering Sam’s stuff. He didn’t want Sam to have a reason to ever go back inside the tomb again.

He needed somewhere new where he could start to recover.  

xXx

Michael was at Mount McKinley again, his wings spread, relishing the freedom. He was waiting for Naomi who was late. Michael hated to be kept waiting, but he hoped her tardiness was because she was achieving something.

He heard her approach and he drew his wings in and waited. She set down in front of him with another angel Michael recognized but didn’t know the name of.

“I apologize for my lateness, but I was searching for an answer to your question,” Naomi said. “This is Hannah. She was one of the host that stayed with Lucifer.”

Michael’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You were?”

She bowed her head. “I apologize for it. I was misled.”

“Apparently so,” he replied. “But I suppose you’re here now. What can you tell me?”

“Lucifer was captured by the nephilim,” Hannah said. “He came with two humans and a witch. One of the humans was from our world. Bobby Singer. The leader of the last faction of the resistance.”

Michael frowned. “You knew his name and rank, but you didn’t kill him?”

“We never had opportunity,” Hannah replied. “His base was a stronghold, and then the nephilim came and joined forces with him. He also had angel bullets.”

“And you had angel blades,” Michael said. “I still don’t see the complication.”

Hannah bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Michael.”

“You say Lucifer was captured?”

“He was. We were gathered in Stull by Lucifer, though we didn’t know why at first. He told us later that he wanted to unite with demons.”

“I already know about that,” Michael said impatiently. “What happened next?”

“The nephilim and his people came, so Lucifer sent us away. I concealed myself and stayed to watch. The witch is extremely powerful. She restrained Lucifer with magic, and the nephilim broke his body. He was a ruin when they took him away.”

“But still alive,” Michael said musingly.

“The younger human wanted him to be kept alive. It was something to do with a person called Sam.”

“It must be one of the Winchester sons,” Michael said. The younger must have come through the rift Lucifer opened. Michael had thought Lucifer would destroy him as soon as the rift closed in that world, but apparently his brother had more patience than Michael had given him credit for. That was even better. If the nephilim hadn’t yet killed Lucifer, he would be occupied for longer.

Now was Michael’s chance to act.

“I need you both to do something for me,” he said. “I cannot speak on angel radio without being heard by all, and I don’t want the nephilim hearing me. Spread the word yourselves to all angels, tell them one by one and have them pass the message on. Tell them all to come here. I have an announcement I need to make.”

They nodded their heads dutifully and Michael heard their voices whisper in his mind among the other chatter. He hoped it would pass unnoticed by the nephilim, who had other things to concentrate on, but would reach who he needed.

Michael looked out over the peaks and tundra that surrounded the mountain and waited for the host to come.

They arrived one by one at first, the ones Hannah and Naomi had reached out to, and then they began to arrive in groups that grew larger and larger until the foot of the mountains and smaller peaks were full of angels, waiting for him to speak.

Michael noticed that some of them had changed their clothes into the more formal attire they’d preferred before the wars had started. He supposed that it made it easier for them to move among the humans, and he preferred it. Their old uniforms had been human ones, taken from the last stores of the human military. He would make it known that he wanted them all to change their clothes now, to make a new uniform that was fitting of his army.

When he believed the last of the host had arrived, he spread his wings and arms to welcome them and spoke into the wind, knowing they could hear him as clearly as if he was standing right beside them. 

“Welcome to you all,” he said. “Welcome to those loyal that returned to me willingly, and those of you that come from Lucifer’s army as you know there is no longer another leader to rally you.”

Some of them shifted uncomfortably, but they were all wise enough to stay silent.

“I have brought you here to explain our new mission. We are going to take the war to the demons in their own territory.”

He waited a moment for their applause to rise and fall, and then he held his hand up for silence.

“This time we will not destroy our world, we will destroy theirs. I am going to take the war to Hell, and we will smite every demon we find there!”

There were cheers, and Michael allowed himself a smile. It felt like the old days, when he’d led the host against the Princes of Hell and their armies. That had been at the peak of his happiness, with Lucifer dead and the world at his feet. He’d made mistakes, he acknowledged that. He’d not envisaged the damage their war would bring to the world, but he had learned from his mistakes this time. He would do better. If they fought one on one, or in small groups, the world would be safe and the demons wouldn’t be able to form a resistance.

“I want you all to go forth and find demons,” he said. “Kill them, but carefully. Don’t allow them to amass as an army. Pick them off one by one. Don’t engage in battle, just kill. Find humans to summon crossroads demons. Search for their hiding places and nests.” He raised his voice to a shout. “Kill the abominations!” 

They cheered loudly, and Michael heard them calling out on angel radio in articulate pleasure and anticipation. If the nephilim heard it, he would not understand it, so Michael didn’t quell their excitement.

“Go!” he said, throwing his arms forward as if to sweep them away, and they disappeared. One moment there was a host assembled in front of him, the next he was alone with Hannah and Naomi. 

Michael drew in a breath and said, “You can go now,” to Hannah.

She bowed her and disappeared, leaving Michael alone with Naomi.

“What would you like me to do?” Naomi asked.

“I need a way into Hell,” Michael said. “For that I need a human and the colt. I need to know where the colt is, and for that, I need an informant. Find me an angel. Not one of the host; an angel from this world. If the Winchesters are as notorious as their mother seemed to think, the angels would monitor them. I would be willing to bet they know where it is. They’re the ones that saved _this_ world after all.”

“I will find an angel,” Naomi promised.

“I know you will,” Michael said, fixing his eyes on her. “You will not fail me, Naomi. If you did, I would be very unhappy, and I know you don’t want that.”

“No, Michael,” she said dutifully.

He smiled as she took flight away from him. and looked around. There were only two roadblocks in his path now, the nephilim and the hell gate, and then he would have what he wanted—this new world completely under his control, free for him to explore and rule.

This time it would work.


	25. Chapter 25

Dean was walking back to Sam’s new room after spending some time in the library, checking in with the others, when he impulsively detoured to the dungeon. He came to a stop outside the doors to the filing room and took a breath. The creature he hated above all others was in there, chained and broken, and though Dean knew he was powerless, he hated that he was so close to Sam. He wanted to see him dead already. If Sam didn’t need to see it happen, he would have Jack in there now, taking care of it.

“That you, son?” Lucifer called, his shout muffled by the doors between them. “I can hear you out there. Come on in.”

Dean pushed open the door and walked inside.  A part of him knew he shouldn’t do this, that he should stay away from Lucifer and the only weapon he had left—his words—but he also knew needed to face him again now that Sam was doing better.

He opened the shelves that led to the dungeon and stepped inside. Lucifer was bound to a chair, and though he was held upright by the chains around him, it was obvious that his body was broken. His shoulders hunched, and his legs were twisted into angles that they shouldn’t be. The skin under his eyes and ears still bore the black blood Jack had drawn from him when he’d crushed him to pieces.

Lucifer blinked and his smiled faded, “Dean. You weren’t who I was expecting. How’s Sam doing? Is he recovering from what Raphe did to him?”

Dean glared at him. “Your bullshit isn’t fooling anyone. We know there’s no demon. Maria came through with Sam. She told us what you did to Sam and why; you wanted the spell to open a rift. Sam wouldn’t give it to you, so you tortured him.”

Lucifer looked wide-eyed and innocent for another moment before he laughed cruelly. “You got me. I really did. But I didn’t just torture him, I killed him, too. Didn’t she tell you about that?”  

“She told us everything,” Dean said.

Lucifer grinned at him. “So, is Sam still a shell? You might as well tell me; you know I’ll find out one way or another.”

“Sam’s fine,” Dean lied. Sam was better, but he was far from fine.

“Really? Did you save him with the power of love?”

“Sam saved himself.” It was half true. He had killed himself, but somehow that had broken through what he was like before and brought him back to what he was now. Dean hadn’t been able to do that for him.

 Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “And you know I really doubt it? I think Sam is just as checked out as before.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think _. You_ don’t matter anymore, not to me, not to Jack, and least of all to Sam. Jack is going to kill you for what you’ve done.”

Lucifer shook his head, unconcerned. “He won’t do it. He can’t. Doesn’t matter who tucks him into bed at night, blood is thicker than water.”

“Blood doesn’t make a family,” Dean said. “I learned that from Crowley and Rowena. It takes more than that. It’s about what you do for each other and how you feel. All you did for Jack was lie to him, torture and kill the man he loves like a father, and give him the power he’ll need to end you. There’s one thing worth thanking you for in there. Jack is _our_ family. He will kill you, and he’ll enjoy it. I’m not the only one that wants revenge. Sam and Jack want it, too.”

“Sam wants nothing apart from to be put out of his misery. That’s what he needs.”

“Sam is back,” Dean said fiercely. “He’s fine.”

“You’re lying. I know what I did to him. Maybe he’s up and talking, but he’s not fine. You don’t just get over the kind of damage I did to him. And you know that, don’t you, Dean? You can see it when you look into his eyes. Have you had Castiel check his soul yet? I didn’t think to do it, but I know how it felt the last time I had it in my hands, and it was a thing of ruined beauty. That soul is my best work. I’d love to know what it’s like now. It’s got to be shredded.”

Dean turned and walked away. He was sure Lucifer was right about that, at least to some degree. You only had to look at Sam to know it.  He was walking and talking, but there was so much he wasn’t able to do, like bear another person’s touch.

“Leaving already?” Lucifer asked. “Tell Sam I said hey. I’ll be seeing him _real_ soon.”

Dean spun around to look at him. “The day you see Sam again will be the day you die. The only reason he will be anywhere near you is to see you ended.”

“You’re wrong. Sam will come to me one day. I know your brother better than you or anyone else in this hole. I have certainly been with him longer. You can’t compete with those years we spent together in the Cage. He belongs to me.”

“He’s nothing to you!” Dean snapped. “You’re nothing to him.”

Lucifer shook his head slowly. “I’m the one he sees, Dean. He looks at you, he sees my face. You speak to him, he hears my voice. When he sleeps, it’s me he dreams of. He is mine.”

Dean lurched forward and slammed his fist into Lucifer’s jaw, making his head snap back. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Even as broken as Lucifer was, Dean wasn’t a match for him.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, and Dean turned to see his mother. He could tell she had been there long enough to hear Lucifer’s theories on what Sam saw and heard, as her face was strained and her eyes sad. But she smiled at him and held something out. It was a set of the brass knuckles with Enochian sigils etched into them.

“Bobby found these in a store room,” she said. “Do you want them or shall I try?”

Dean wanted to attack Lucifer, to hear his pain, and the magic the brass knuckles Mary held might allow him to really feel the pain they were dealing him, but he could tell Mary needed it too. She had suffered as much as Dean, maybe more. She had experience the horror of watching Sam kill himself.

Dean took them from her and slid them into place over her fingers. “Go ahead.”

Mary smiled cruelly and stalked towards Lucifer.

“Haven’t we been here before Mary?” Lucifer asked. “Last time you tried fighting me, you got trapped in that world with murderous angels. Do you really think this time will end much better?”

“I do,” Mary said, and then slammed her fist into the side of his head.

Lucifer rocked to the side and grunted, but his look of pain quickly became a smile and he laughed. “Is that really the best you can do? You’d have been better off letting Dean do it. At least he has some experience with causing pain. Have you told mommy about that yet, Dean? She should know just what it was you did in Hell.”

Dean’s heart lurched. He knew Lucifer was sick enough to tell her now, to expose Dean’s secret to the last person he wanted to know about it.

“Screw you!” Mary spat, landing another punch to his cheek, splitting the skin.

She landed blow after blow, spreading out the damage, until he was bloody and beaten. Dean would have let her carry on, but he recognized that her breaths were now becoming sobs. He quickly dragged her back from Lucifer and out of the room and into the hall. With his arm around her, he led her into the next free room, a storage room, and wrapped his arms around her.

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s over.”

“It’s not,” she said through her tears. “It will never be over.”

“It will,” Dean said fiercely. “Sam is back, and Lucifer is going to die as soon as Sam is ready to watch.”

Mary pulled back and shook her head. “He’s not back though, not really. He’s scared and in pain. I can’t even touch him. If I’m even sitting too close, he can’t bear it. He won’t say it, but I know. He’s hurting so much, Dean, and that animal in there did to him.”

“He did,” Dean said heavily. “And, honestly, I don’t know how to help Sam. All we can do is be there and give him what he needs when he can tell us what it is.”

“I want Lucifer dead,” she said vehemently.

“Me too, but we’ve got to do it when Sam is ready. He deserves to watch it happen, he _needs_ to so it’s real for him. We have to wait for him to be ready. He deserves to make the choice. He’s earned that.”

Mary nodded. “I know, I do, it’s just having that animal so close and seeing what he has done to Sam make me sick. I want it over.”

Dean felt the same, but he suspected that she was expecting too much from Lucifer’s death. It wasn’t going to magically heal Sam. It couldn’t. It would only help him. Sam could see Lucifer tortured for an eternity, just like he had been, but it wouldn’t repair the damage done to his soul.

There was no repairing that.  

xXx

Sam had hoped, stupidly, that the longer he was ‘back’, the easier it would get. He’d thought the sensory overload would ease up and he’d get used to the feeling of the air against his skin, that he could stand for people to be close, but nothing had changed. Even sleep had failed to give him any kind of release. He’d slept after eating a little of the soup Mary had made, but his dreams had been filled with Lucifer and he’d woken panting repeatedly with Castiel watching him and the soup rolling in his stomach.

He’d given up on trying to sleep eventually, and when Castiel asked if he was okay, he told him he didn’t remember dreaming at all. Castiel clearly hadn’t believed him, but when Dean had come back to Sam’s room a little later, he didn’t mention it to him. Sam was grateful. It was obvious he wasn’t back on his feet, he couldn’t hide that from any of them, but Castiel was letting him have what privacy he could. Sam was in pain, he was suffering, but he was dealing with it, and that was all he figured he could hope for now. 

Now he was sitting in his bedroom with his family, having eaten more of Mary’s soup and half of a sandwich Jack had proudly presented to him. It felt like lead in Sam’s stomach, but he had smiled and said it was good but he was too full for more. He knew he needed to eat, his ruined body told him that, but he didn’t know how long it had been since he’d last had food, and his stomach had evidently shrunk.

Mary was sitting on the recliner Castiel had carried into the room, and Dean was sitting on the arm. Jack had the chair that had been at Sam’s new desk, and Castiel stood sentinel by the door. They were giving him his space alone on the bed, and he was grateful, but he wished he could be alone in the _room_ , even if just for a few minutes. He hadn’t been alone once since he’d woken up; Castiel was always there. He thought he knew why he was there, but he wished he wasn’t. He would have liked to be left alone to react freely to how he felt for a while.

“You don’t all need to stay,” Sam said with forced casualness. “There’s got to be other stuff for you to do.” He hadn’t asked about Michael, but he knew they had to be busy with him, not to mention the devil in the dungeon.

“Do you need some more sleep?” Dean asked solicitously. “We can clear out if you need.” He shot Castiel a pointed look and the angel nodded.

“You can _all_ go. You don’t need to stay here,” Sam said. “There must be important stuff for you to be doing, Cas.”

Castiel shook his head. “It’s all taken care of.”

Sam sighed. “Really, I get why you think you have to stay, but you don’t need to. I’m not going to hurt myself again.”

Mary looked stricken and Dean uncomfortable as he said “I don’t want to think you’re lying, Sammy, but that’s exactly what someone would say if they were. What if you change your mind?”

“I won’t,” Sam said. “Things are different now. Really. You don’t need to worry.”

“We can’t help it,” Mary said sadly. “We’re the ones you were trying to leave behind. Let Castiel stay for me. I saw you do that to yourself, Sam. You died in my arms. Let me breathe by knowing you’re not alone.”

Sam ducked his head. It was mostly a blur, but he had a vague memory of Mary being there when he’d killed himself. He realized now that he wasn’t the only one that had been through hell lately. He’d put them through it, too. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“We know,” Dean said seriously. “And we’re sorry we can’t give you the solitude you want now, but we can’t risk it.”

“I get it,” Sam said, forcing himself to look up. He understood that they needed someone to watch him, but he wished they didn’t. He just wanted to be alone for a while.

“Do you want to talk about why you did it?” Mary asked.

“No,” Sam said honestly. “I don’t need to. Do you?”

They all shook their heads, as he’d expected, but Sam saw the disparity in between their actions and faces. Dean especially needed to know.

“When I was in that other world with Lucifer, I was in hell again,” he said. “The things he did there were… It was too much, but I was hanging on. I had to believe you were all alive here, so I couldn’t give him the spell; I didn’t want him here, too, with Michael. But then I saw you die.”

“You saw us _die_?” Jack asked, confusion etched into his features.

Sam nodded. “It was like a vision again. Lucifer had locked me in my cage, and put me to sleep. I dreamed it, except it didn’t feel like a dream. It was so real. I saw Michael coming through here and killing you all one by one. Then the ghosts came.” He drew a shaky breath as he remembered. “You were all there, telling me these things. You said that Michael was destroying the world, and with you all gone, I was the only one that could stop him. But I knew…”

He stopped for a moment, feeling all eyes on him. He had to admit next how he had given up, and he was ashamed of it. He thought Dean was the only one that might understand, and even he would be disappointed in Sam.

He bowed his head and forced the words out through his shame. “I knew I couldn’t do it alone, and there was no one left. I had been tortured and killed, and I knew it was only a matter of time before Maria found the spell. It was too much, so I gave up. I just let go. Everything went away for a while, even the pain, but then I went through the rift, and all my ghosts were here with me again.” He looked up. “You were all here. I could hear you talking, but I couldn’t understand the words. I thought it was a new hell. I knew that I was going to see the world end and the people I loved coming to me one by one as ghosts, and I couldn’t handle it. Then I saw Jody and Patience, and it broke my heart, knowing they’d died, too.”

Mary sucked in a breath as if something had suddenly clicked for her, and Dean nodded slowly.

“Go on,” Castiel said.

“I decided that I was going to end it, hoping I would be able to find a way to stay in the Empty at last. I was just waiting for my chance. Then I saw Kevin…” He shook his head jerkily. “I don’t remember much about it happening, but one moment I was here, the next I was in Heaven.”

Dean’s face slackened. “You were in Heaven when we brought you back?”

Sam nodded. “I don’t know how or why, as I had always ended up in the Empty before, but I was there.”

“It’s got to be Billie,” Mary said.

“No way,” Dean said dismissively. “She wouldn’t help us.”

“I don’t think she’s as cold as she would like us to believe,” Castiel said thoughtfully.

Dean shook his head jerkily. “However it happened, that was where he ended up.” He looked at Sam. “And Rowena’s charm dragged you back. I’m… I’m not sorry. I know I probably should be, because Heaven sounds a lot better than what you’re feeling now, but I can’t lie to you.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Sam said. “I wasn’t dragged back. I was saved.”

He was suffering now, and he could have been able to stay there with Bobby if they hadn’t done it, but he hadn’t wanted to. He’d already made the choice to try to come back. 

“I wasn’t alone there,” he went on. “Bobby was there, too, and he made me see that I’d been stupid. I’d seen that dream thing and then you all, and I’d believed it. I never considered that it could be Lucifer pulling my strings, making me see what he wanted me to see, believe what he wanted. After talking to Bobby, I realized I needed to come back. I was going to look for an angel to deal with when Rowena’s spell worked. It was what I wanted.”

Dean stared him in the eyes, searching for a lie, and then nodded. “Okay. I get it.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to live,” Sam said. “I just wanted the pain to stop. I don’t want to die now, even though it still hurts, because I have things to live for.” He looked at Castiel. “If you need to stay, I can deal with it, but I really won’t hurt myself again.”

Mary and Dean exchanged a long look, communicating silently, and Sam sighed. They didn’t believe him.

“I get it,” he said. “I probably wouldn’t believe me either. But I’ll find a way to make you see I mean what I’m saying.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Mary said quietly.

He knew it was going to take a long time for them to see he meant what he said, and he would have to bear Castiel’s presence until they did. He owed them their peace of mind, having taken it from them in the worst way. He just had to be patient and learn to hide his pain better.


	26. Chapter 26

Dean wanted to believe Sam wouldn’t hurt himself again, and after the story he’d heard, it should have been easier to, but Sam could change his mind any minute. Even though he was away from Lucifer now, he was still going through hell with the after-effects of the damage inflicted, and Dean didn’t want another tragedy just because he hadn’t been careful enough. Castiel had to stay with him.

Sam seemed to have exhausted himself with the telling of his story, and Dean thought they should leave him to rest, but before he could suggest it, Sam said, “What’s happening with Michael?”

“We don’t have to talk about that now,” Mary said quickly.

Sam looked at Dean, and Dean saw his need, so he said, “We’re looking for signs of him in police reports and news articles. He’s been pretty quiet so far, apart from killing some demons. When we find him, Jack’s going to kill him.”

Jack nodded determinedly and Sam cast him a sad smile.

“What about everyone else?” Sam asked.

“Charlie and Bobby are on the search. Kevin is scanning the demon tablet in case there’s anything on there that might help us track him down. It’s unlikely, but we’re trying. It would be a lot easier if we still had the angel tablet.”

“I’m sorry that it was destroyed,” Castiel said seriously.

Dean huffed a laugh. “I’d prefer one less tablet to having Metatron in charge.”

“Me too,” Sam said fervently, and Dean saw a shadow in his eyes. He guessed the mention of the angel that had led to Kevin’s and Dean’s own death had triggered another bad memory in Sam’s mind that he was struggling to deal with.  

It made Dean restless to see Sam like this but to have no way of helping him. He wanted to do something to take care of Michael already, even though he knew he wasn’t going to be able to do more than insult him while Jack killed him.

“I know Cas has to stay, but you don’t all need to,” Sam said.

“What? We’re fine,” Dean said quickly.

Sam raised an eyebrow, and Dean knew he shouldn’t have bothered to try to fool his brother. Even in the state he was in, Sam could read Dean.  

“You need to do more than sit around here,” Sam said. “I’m not exactly fun company.”

“You’re perfect company,” Mary said sincerely.

Sam smiled at here. “But there’s got to be other stuff you guys should be doing.”

“Nothing that matter as much as this,” she replied.

“You could come with us,” Dean suggested. “Just to the library.”

Sam’s eyes widened and he quickly sat on his hands to hide the fact they were shaking. He was scared, terrified of the thought of going there. Dean hated this. The bunker was Sam’s home, he should be comfortable there, but Lucifer had ruined the place for him. Dean felt a surge of visceral hatred towards the archangel for what he had done.

Before he could rally for a way to reassure Sam, to help him, there was a knock on the door and Sam looked even worse.

Dean opened the door a crack and slipped through to the hall where Bobby waited. He was standing back, clearly giving Sam as much space as he could, and only when Dean had clicked the door closed behind him did he speak.

“What’s up?” Dean asked,

“We’ve found something we need you to see,” Bobby said.

Dean opened the door and stuck his head in and said, “I’ve just got to look at something with Bobby. I’ll be right back.”

He clicked it closed again and followed Bobby to the library where Charlie was waiting in her usual place at the laptop. Dean peered through to the war room and saw Kevin was sitting at the table with the demon tablet and a notepad in front of him and oversized headphones over his ears.

“What you got, Charlie?” Dean asked.

“More bodies showing up looking like angel kills,” she said. “There are a lot, and they’re spread all over the country, but there’s a concentration of them in Nebraska that were all found at crossroads.”

“Demons,” Dean said.

“That’s what we’re thinking,” Bobby said. “Michael could still be pushing for a way home, trying to make them give him the spell, or he’s getting to work on this world the same way he did ours.”

“We had wars that destroyed whole states,” Charlie interjected. “But maybe he’s learned his lesson this time. Take the demons one by one, not giving them a chance to amass against him the way they did in our world. He doesn’t want to nuke this place, too.”

“We need to check this out,” Bobby said.

“Yeah…” Dean said slowly.

He knew Bobby was right, and he wanted to go find out, do something that might help, but he didn’t want to leave Sam here already. He’d not been back long, and last time Dean had left, Sam had killed himself.

“You don’t want to leave your brother,” Bobby stated.

“I don’t,” Dean agreed.

“I get that, I do, but I’m guessing he would want you to. Rowena told us that charm you sewed into him is charged up and ready to go. If something _does_ happen, it should fix it.”

“I’d rather we didn’t need to test that theory, thanks,” Dean snapped.

“Of course not, none of us want that, but we have a job to work. The bodies showed up in Omaha. That’s only a few hours away. We can get there and back again before dark. Castiel and your mom can stay here with him.”

Dean was still hesitant. He knew what he _should_ do, but it didn’t gel with what he wanted to do. Bobby was right though. Sam would want him to go; he’d already said as much even. At some point Dean was going to need to leave him in the care of others, so it might as well be now.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll just go tell them where I’m going.”

“I’ll meet you at the car,” Bobby said.

Dean nodded, thanked Charlie for her work, and then went back to Sam’s new room. He knocked before entering and Mary called him in. He saw at once that in the time he’d been gone, Sam had crashed. He was lying on his side on top of the bedclothes, his hands curled into fists under his chin, with a blanket draped over him.

“He just lay down and fell asleep in seconds,” Mary said. “It was like Cas put him out.”

“I didn’t,” Castiel interjected.

“I know,” Dean said. “He’s exhausted. He’s been through a lot and being on edge all time like he is wears you down. The best thing he can probably do is sleep.”

“He doesn’t sleep well,” Castiel said. “He was dreaming in the night. It looked like a nightmare.”

Mary’s face fell, but Dean just nodded. He’d expected it. He’d seen Sam go through the nightmares during the time after Castiel broke his wall, and he’d dealt with his own after his time in Hell. He didn’t know exactly what Sam was dreaming, but he knew it wasn’t going to be good.

It occurred to him that they could find out, to maybe form some plan for dealing with them, by sending Castiel into his dreams, but he quickly decided against. All Sam had that was solely his was his own mind now, and even that had been violated by Lucifer with the vision he’d given him. They had to let him keep what little privacy he had.

“I’ve got to go to Omaha,” Dean said. “It looks like there are more angel kills there. Me and Bobby are going to check them out.”

“Shall I come?” Jack asked.

“No, thanks, man,” Dean said. It would be hard to explain Jack in a morgue. He looked far too young to be any kind of law enforcement. “It’s just recon. Me and Bobby will handle it. You stay here and keep an eye on the place.”

Jack nodded seriously. “I will take care of everyone.”

“You take care of yourself, too, Dean,” Mary said.

“It’s a simple run by the morgue,” Dean said. “We can handle it. If Sam wakes up before I’m back, tell him where I’ve gone and that I’ll be back tonight.”

“I will,” Mary said.

Jack stood and came to the door. “I will keep Charlie company,” he said. “Call me if you need me.”

Dean took a long look at Sam, reassuring himself that he was fine and would continue to be, then he raised a hand in farewell as Mary picked up a book and started to read while Castiel looked pointedly away from Sam. He followed Jack back toward the library, reminding himself that with Jack there, the bunker was protected, and with Castiel and Rowena’s charm, Sam was, too.

xXx

The drive to Omaha went fast, and Dean drove them straight to Mercy Hospital. They parked in the lot, and Dean climbed out, ready to get in and out quickly, to move through what they needed to do and get back to the bunker.

Bobby was slower, though, and when he looked up at the façade of the hospital, he looked a little pale. “I’ve been here before,” he said quietly. “Years ago. When we came to…”

Dean frowned. He couldn’t work out what would have made Bobby react like this, and then an old story Bobby had once told him and Sam, standing at a graveside occurred to him, and he felt it click into place.

“With Rufus, right?”

Bobby gave him a sharp look. “Rufus! Is he here, too?”

“He was,” Dean said. “We lost him on a hunt about eight years ago.”

Bobby sagged. “He died in our world, too. Killed by Raphael himself. I always said no other angel but him or Michael could have taken that old bastard out.” He sighed. “Me and Rufus started the resistance together after our military collapsed. It was a hell of a blow for our cause when he died.”

“It was for us when we lost our Rufus, too,” Dean said. “He was a good man.”

“A damn good one,” Bobby said seriously. “I just thought for a moment that here he might be… It was stupid. It should be enough for me that everyone else is alive. All the people I saw die in my world, all the ones I failed to save, my fighters and the civilians, they’re probably still living here. There are just a few others that I would like to see again.” He drew a deep breath and said firmly, “Doesn’t matter. There are plenty alive, and if we do our job right, if Jack comes through for us on Michael, they will keep living their lives.”

Dean nodded. That was the point, the whole reason he was here, to save people, the _world_ , again

“I know where the morgue is,” Bobby said, striding away.

Dean followed after him across the parking lot and through a side door that led to a long hall with a bank of elevators at the end. Bobby ignored the elevator and entered the door on the right into a stairwell. They went down a level and Bobby took a right out the door. He seemed to have a good memory of the place seeing as he’d said it was a long time ago that he was here, but Dean supposed, if his story was the same as his Bobby’s, it was something that was going to stick in his head.

They reached double white doors and Bobby pushed them open and went in. Dean followed after him into a small anteroom with a couch and computer set up on a desk. There was a young man at the desk, doing something on the computer, but he looked up as they entered and said, “Can I help you?”

“Singer and…”

“Bonham,” Dean said quickly.

“FBI,” Bobby added. “We’re here to see the crossroads bodies.”

“Can I see your ID?” he asked.

Dean pulled out the ID he’d taken from the trunk of the Impala and handed it to the kid who examined it carefully and handed it back. “And yours, sir?” he said to Bobby.

“My ID has been stolen,” Bobby said. “I can put a call into the office and have them clarify who I am, or you can quit wasting our time and get me your boss.”

The kid blinked stupidly and said. “Of course. I’ll get him now.” He circled the desk and pushed open a swinging door and called, “Doctor Marquardt. I have two men from the FBI here,” before the door closed behind him.

“Didn’t even think of ID,” Bobby muttered. “It’s been too damn long. I haven’t even been in a working hospital since the world ended. We only went when we were really desperate for a supply run as the angels staked them out, wanting to pick up stragglers that were forced to go there when it was risking life against the angels or certain death from an injury.”

“The angels were smart,” Dean said, thinking of the cunning that would make them stake out hospitals where people would go for safety and help.

“Of course they were,” Bobby said. “If they’d been stupid, we wouldn’t have lost.”

The door open and the kid came back with a rake-thin man that was pulling off bloody gloves and stuffing them in his pockets. “Agents,” he said. “Evan Marquardt. I hear you’re here about the crossroads reaper’s victims?”

“That’s what you’re calling him?” Bobby asked.

“Not officially, no, but the cops are starting to use it. I admit it needs work. Got any ideas?”

“Michael seems appropriate,” Bobby murmured and them raised his voice. “Not a one. Can we see the bodies?”

“Of course. Come on through.”

Dean and Bobby went into the room after him, and to the metal table in the middle of the room where there was a sheet-covered body. The doctor pulled back the sheet and revealed a man whose eyes had been burned out of their sockets. He lowered the sheet to the man’s waist and Dean saw the signature Y-shaped autopsy lines of stitches and a stab wound over the heart.

“I just finished zipping him up,” he said. “But I took pictures if you want to see what he looked like on the inside.”

“That’s okay. You can tell us,” Dean said.

“Well, it was one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen. The organs were burned. I thought maybe an electric shock, but there’s no external entry or exit burns, just that stab wound. And there’s the eyes. It’s like someone went at them with a blowtorch. Do you think that’s what’s happening?” He leaned closer. “Got any suspects?”

“We’ve got one,” Bobby said, giving Dean a pointed look and a nod.

“Do you have an ID for him?” Dean asked.

“We do, and that was another weird thing. We got it off his fingerprints as he had a DUI prior but, and here’s the kicker, he’s been a missing person since 2009. Disappeared one day on the way home from work and was never seen again. His ex-wife is coming from Utah for the body tomorrow. She got an absentee divorce a couple years ago and she’s remarried since, but they had kids, so she’s taking care of it. I wouldn’t mind knowing his story. In fact–”

“You’re not the only one,” Dean said, cutting across his flow before he could find his rhythm again. “And how many other ‘reaper’ killings have you had come in?”

“He’s the fifth and latest, but the only one we got an ID on. That’s just in this area. We’re hearing about them all over the state.”

“And they were all the same?” Bobby asked.

“All with the scorched innards, yes. You got any idea what would do something like that?”

Bobby shook his head. “Afraid not. I think we’re done here. Thank for your help.”

The doctor looked surprised and a little disappointed, as it he was hoping for more. “Oh, okay. Don’t want to slow down the FBI, I guess.”

Dean thanked him and he and Bobby left, through the small anteroom past the curious kid, and into the hall.

“Damn,” Bobby said. “I forgot how much coroners can talk. It’s like they save it up all day while they are with the dead that can’t join in and then blast you with it when they come across another living human.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah. I’ve met a few like him.”

“So we’re thinking the vic was a demon?” Bobby asked.

“Got to be,” Dean said, “Michael is still working the same angle. He’s just stepped up his plans.”

“Or he’s been recruiting.” Seeing Dean’s blank look, he went on. “Lucifer brought a lot of angels through that rift with him. It looked like they were all in Stull, and they’ve suddenly lost their leader. They could be rallying around Michael. These bodies are popping up all over. If he’s set the angels to work, there’s going to be a lot more than when it was just him.”

“You think he’s going to take them out one-by-one?” Dean asked.

“It’d save the damage to the world this time. I think that’s exactly what he’s doing.”

Dean considered. “That would work for the topside demons but, believe me, there are a lot more still in Hell. He can’t take them out up here.”

Bobby considered. “Azazel let the demon armies out of hell to fight through a Hell Gate. You ever see one of them?”

“Once,” Dean said, remembering the gaping maw of the gate in Wyoming, how the demons had streamed through it, hundreds of them.

“Then you know what’s like. Maybe Michael can do us a favor and clear the topside ranks a little. But if one of these demons gets smart and opens a hell gate and starts them marching, we’re in for a world of hurt here.”

“There’s no clear leader in Hell now Crowley’s dead,” Dean said. “But someone could step up.” He sighed. “This is a nightmare.”

They got up the stairs and out of the building before Bobby spoke again. “Do you think we’re going to do this?”

“Find Michael?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Dean considered. He wanted Michael dead, and Jack deserved to do it for what he’d seen in that other world, and he wanted it for Bobby and his people. But for himself, he didn’t really care if it was them or Billie. He just wanted it over. Then they could deal with Lucifer and he could concentrate on Sam properly. Killing Michael and Lucifer was going to be easy compared to helping Sam. He owed these people though, they’d come after Lucifer with him, and Sam would want them to pay their debts.

“I hope so,” he said honestly. “I really hope so.”


	27. Chapter 27

According to the clock on Sam’s beside table, it was past three in the morning, and Sam was awake. He had slept some of the day, but he was still exhausted. He knew the other residents of the bunker were probably sleeping, Dean had even been persuaded to sleep in his own bed, but Sam still felt their presence close, hemming him in.

“Do you want me to help you sleep?” Castiel offered, looking up from the book he was reading, sitting in the recliner.

“No thanks,” Sam said. “I don’t want to dream anymore.”

“I can try sending you deep enough that they won’t come.”

“Or you could send me deep enough that I can’t wake up and escape them.” Sam shuddered. “I’d rather be awake.”

“Can I help at all?” Castiel asked. “You can have my book?”

Sam checked the cover and saw it was a study on vampires’ social habits. Not only was it a boring topic, Sam had read it before.

“No thanks. But…” He drew a quick breath before suggesting what he had been thinking about for a while. “You can come with me to the library so I can find my own.”

Castiel looked concerned. “Do you feel ready?”

“Not really,” Sam said honestly. “But I still want to do it.”

“Perhaps you should wait for Dean.”

“I can’t,” Sam said. “If I can’t do it and he’s with me, he’ll be disappointed. I’m tired of letting him down.”

“You’re not letting anyone down,” Castiel said seriously. “Least of all Dean. He has more insight than any of us of what you’re going through. He has experienced Hell, and he has seen you suffer before. The last thing he would want is you pushing yourself too soon and hurting because of it.”

“But I’m already hurting, Cas. That’s the point. I need to do this for myself, too. I’m scared of my own home, and I hate it. I want to be able to get out of this room for more than a trip to the bathroom. I know Dean has the others staying out of the way, and I appreciate it, but I have to face them sooner or later. If I can start by just getting out of my room, then I’ll be halfway there. I can’t stay weak.”

“You’re not weak,” Castiel said. “You have been through a horrific experience that no one should have to bear. You are dealing with that better than any of us could hope for. The fact you want to try at all this is a testament to your strength.”

Sam shook his head, trying to find the words to explain his need. “I have to try, Cas. I feel weak in here, like I’m being a coward.” Castiel opened his mouth, but Sam spoke over him. “I feel like one, and I can’t bear it. I have to do something for myself. And for everyone else. If can get out of here, it will be a win. We all need that.”

Castiel considered carefully and then nodded. “I agree. I will come with you.”

Sam climbed off the bed, steadied himself on his weaker legs, and then started for the door. Castiel put his book down and walked at his side. Sam put his hand on the door and, after a moment, he opened it.

He told himself that this was no different than going to the bathroom, there would probably be no one awake, he could do this, but when he turned left instead of right, toward the library, he had to take deep breaths to calm himself.

He handled it fine until he got to the corner where he would turn down hallway that led to the library, and then he froze. He found himself looking down the other hall, where he could almost see the filing room. That was where Lucifer was. The monster that had done this to him was so close.

“Come on, Sam,” Castiel said gently. “Let’s go find a book.”

Castiel took the lead now, and Sam followed him, taking deep, slow breaths. When they reached the library, he froze on the threshold and Castiel carried on a few steps before realizing Sam wasn’t with him.

Sam looked around, wondering if it had really always been this big. Had the ceilings been that high? Did their footsteps always echo like this? It felt huge and he felt very small, as if the room could swallow him.

“Sam?” Castiel said questioning. “Are you okay?”

Sam forced himself to take a step forward, and then another and another until he was fully in the room. There was evidence of people all around. Sam’s own laptop was on a table and there was a hoodie hanging on the chair behind it. The demon tablet was on the other side of the table along with pages of notes. There were empty glasses and a plate with crumbs on it. The bunker had never seemed so lived in. While he hid in his room, people were out here, preparing to fight. He was missing it all. He had to get back to himself so he could join them. He was useless as he was.

He looked past the table and spotted the place he had been tortured. He walked towards it on shaking legs and pointed. “That was where the rack was.”

Castiel reached for him, and Sam flinched. Castiel quickly pulled back his hand and apologized.

“Lucifer would sit there and watching Maria working on the tablet” he went on, pointing at a chair and then spot on the polished floor. “And that was where he stood when he was torturing me. He would ask me questions, talk to me and taunt me, and I could never answer. He would take my voice away. I could only talk when we were alone, and I barely did. I sometimes thought I would never speak again. He would really take my voice from me, and he would win.”

“Sam…”

He looked at Castiel. “But he won anyway, didn’t he?”

“No!” Castiel said angrily, making Sam flinch. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Lucifer is broken and chained in the dungeon. He is weak and in pain. When you’re ready to see it happen, he will be killed. He will never hurt you again. He’s weak and you are strong. After that happened to you right there”—he pointed at the spot the rack had been—“you have come back to face it. Lucifer is nothing compared to you.”

“I want to see him,” Sam said, not knowing he was going to say the words until they were spoken. They felt right though. He was scared, but it felt important. Perhaps if he saw Lucifer weak as Castiel said he was, he wouldn’t be able to scare him in his dreams so much.

“No,” Castiel said, no heat in his voice. “I know why you want to, but I think, deep down, you know you’re not ready. Don’t risk what you have gained. Wait until Dean can be with you.”

Sam knew Lucifer still had words, and they could hurt him as much as his blade had, but it felt important to him to show Lucifer that he was still standing. Perhaps if he could do that, he would believe Lucifer hadn’t won after all. But Castiel was probably right. He should wait for Dean. He always felt stronger when his brother was by his side. He would wait.

“I want to go to the kitchen,” he said, thinking that was safe. There were no memories of Lucifer connected with that place.

“Are you hungry?” Castiel asked. “I can get you something.”

“There’s something I want to do,” he replied. He wanted to make his mark on this place again, for the bunker to be his home instead of his cage.

Castiel nodded and they walked together to the kitchen. Sam was staring to feel tired, but he was determined to do what he planned first. He was going to do it for them all.

There were even more signs of people living there in the kitchen: plates on the drainer, stacks of groceries on the counters, and when he opened the fridge, he saw it was full. “How many people live here now?” he asked.

“Including you and me, there are eleven. Bobby, Charlie and a friend of Kevin’s called Maggie are here from that world. Rowena and Ketch have a room together, and Jack, your mother and Dean are in their usual places. Kevin’s back in his old room. The rest of Bobby’s people are in the motel in town.”

“That’s a lot of people,” Sam said.

He wondered how many of them knew what had happened to him, how many had seen him when he had been unable to see them. He thought it was better to not ask.

“Shall I get you something to eat?” Castiel asked. “You probably need to rest again.”

“No, I’ll be okay a little longer,” Sam said. “I want to make pancakes.”

Castiel frowned. “Pancakes.”

“For them all,” Sam said. “They can heat them in the morning. Will you help me?”

Castiel looked pleased. “Of course. What do you need me to do?”

Sam took the heavy skillet from the cupboard and set it on the stove. “Get me eggs, milk, and butter from the fridge.”

Castiel hurried to obey and Sam took the flour and baking powder from the cupboard. He set them on the counter and reached for the measuring cups. He was feeling even more tired now—his muscles had wasted during his captivity—but he thought he had enough left in him to do this before he would need to crash.

He would do this for them all first. This would be his win.

xXx

Dean was feeling good as he walked out of the bathroom and back to his room. He had a feeling it was going to be a good day. He’d taken care cleaning up and getting ready for the day, even shaving, which he hadn’t bothered with for a few days. He hadn’t gone straight to Sam when he woke up either. He was confident Castiel would have made sure he knew if something had happened in the night that he needed to know about, and he wanted to show Sam he wasn’t hovering, that he was taking care of himself, too. He was hoping Sam would have a better day, too, that maybe he would be able to bear them closer, even tolerate a touch.

He threw his dirty clothes into the laundry hamper and then left the room to see Sam. The door was always closed now to give Sam his privacy from the other occupants of the bunker, and he knocked before going in.

Sam was sleeping, his eyes resting peacefully under their lids. He seemed to be free of nightmares for a change. Castiel was sitting in the recliner with a book in his hands, but he was looking at Dean, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

“How’s he doing?” Dean asked. “How was he in the night?”

“We had an eventful night,” Castiel said. 

Dean frowned. “Want to elaborate on that, Cas?”

“No. I’ll let you see it for yourself. Sam left you something in the kitchen.”

“Sam was in the kitchen?” Dean was surprised and a little disappointed in himself. He’d wanted to be there to support his brother when he was ready to venture out into the bunker properly. He guessed Sam had chosen the time when it would be quietest to go out. He reminded himself that Castiel had been with him, and if Sam had gotten as far as the kitchen, he had obviously handled it. 

“We went for a walk,” Castiel said. “He did well, although…”

“What?”

“He wanted to see Lucifer.”

“Not a chance!” Dean said quickly.

Castiel smiled slightly. “I said the same thing, only a little more gently. He didn’t push the topic. I think he knows that would be a bad idea right now. He’s not ready.”

“Damn right he isn’t.”

Getting out of the room and going to the kitchen was fine, an achievement even, but seeing Lucifer! He was in no way ready for that.

“He’s okay, Dean,” Castiel said, evidently seeing his panic. “Go see what he left you.”

Dean checked Sam was sleeping peacefully still then nodded and left the room.

His pace was quick as he walked toward the kitchen, but he heard voices from the library and stopped. They sounded happy, and there was the clink of cutlery against china. He followed the sound to the war room and saw everyone sitting around the table with a large platter of pancakes in the center of the table with clean plates, forks and a bottle of maple syrup. 

“Dean!” Kevin said cheerfully. “Come eat. The pancake fairy came in the night.”

Dean took in the sight of them all eating happily and the number of pancakes, trying to imagine Sam staying on his feet long enough to make them all. It must have been a challenge for him, even with Castiel’s help. He felt a surge of pride in his brother. Not only had he faced getting out of his room properly, he had done this, too.

“It was Sam,” he said, locking eyes with his mother.

“Sam made all this?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“Cas said he left something for us in the kitchen last night,” Dean said. “It’s got to be this.”

Mary beamed. “He was out of his room, too.”

“Yeah. Cas said he did good.”

“He did,” Mary agreed. “This is a big step.”

Dean nodded. “Make sure you tell him so.”

The fact they were celebrating the fact Sam got out of his room and made breakfast made Dean sad for a moment as he realized how something that would have been nothing to him was now an achievement, but he pushed it aside. It would have been small once, but now it was big, a sign he was really doing better, and Dean was going to appreciate it. 

Mary stood and piled a plate with pancakes and pulled out the chair beside her. “Come sit,” she said. “Eat.”

Dean took the seat and slathered his pancakes with syrup that Maggie passed him. They were good, in no way diminished by the fact they’d needed to be reheated.

Mary touched his arm and said, “Are you okay?” quietly.

“Yeah, fine,” Dean said.

She raised an eyebrow.

“I am, Mom, really. Sam’s doing better, and we have Lucifer trapped in the dungeon. We’ve just got to deal with Michael and we can really focus on Sammy. Things are going our way.”

“About that,” Bobby said, leaning over the table.

Dean was a little annoyed that he’d been listening to a conversation that clearly wasn’t supposed to include him. It made him realize that having the bunker so crowded was a problem for more than just Sam. 

“Let me just finish these,” Dean said, pointing his fork at his pancakes. “Then we can talk about whatever you want.”

Bobby nodded and got to his feet and walked into the library with Charlie.

“He can’t help it,” Mary said, interpreting Dean’s frown. “He’s still at war.”

“We all are,” Dean said.

“Yeah, but we’re having more wins than him. We got Sam back, and we’ve got Lucifer. Bobby’s monster is still out there, and he’s scared he’s going to see another world destroyed.”

Dean ate a forkful of pancake and grunted. He knew Bobby had been through a lot, lost a lot, but he couldn’t help but compare it to what Sam had been through, and he found Bobby’s suffering lacking.

He ate the rest of his breakfast in silence, gradually left alone with Mary as more people finished and left the room. When he was done, he stacked his plate and his mother’s and started towards the kitchen.

“I’ll do that,” Mary said. “You go see Bobby.”

Dean handed her the plates and went to the library where Charlie and Bobby had been joined by Jack.

“What do you need, Bobby?” he asked.

“It’s what we all need,” Bobby replied. “Michael. Charlie had an idea I think we need to consider.”

Dean looked at her. “What are you thinking?”

“Lucifer,” she said. “Michael killed him in our world, and I figured he’d probably want to in this world, too. We could made a deal with him. We give him Lucifer in exchange for something.”

Dean shook his head. “We can’t do that. Lucifer needs to die. Jack needs to do it, and Sam needs to see it.”

“I agree,” she said. “But Michael doesn’t have to know that. If we can lure him to a place with Jack there, we can take out both at once. Castiel can reach him on angel radio; I’d bet he’ll be listening for anything from us he can get. We can set up a place and take Lucifer there.”

Dean considered. He did want Michael ended, but he wanted Sam helped more. To do that, he needed to see Lucifer die. He wasn’t ready to see him yet, let alone get out of the bunker and see Michael, too.

“What do you think, Jack?” he asked.

“I want them both dead,” Jack said. “And I want to help Sam. If we explain it to him, keep him away from Lucifer until it’s time, we could make it work maybe.”

“What else can we do?” Bobby asked. “All we know is that he’s going after crossroads. We can’t stake one out and hope he shows up. Right now we’re waiting for a disaster to tell us where he is, and when we get one, it will be too late to save everyone. We saw enough disasters in our world.”

“Let me think about it,” he said. “And talk to Sam. He’s the one that needs to see it happen. If he can handle it… maybe.”

Bobby looked like he wanted to argue, but Kevin came into the room then with Maggie and spoke before he could. “We’re heading into town. Does anyone need anything?”

“Yes!” Charlie said excitedly. “Jerky and peanut butter.”

Kevin frowned. “Are you planning on mixing those two things?”

“Yep,” Charlie said.

“Anyone else?” Kevin asked.  

Bobby started writing a list and Dean said, “You’re going into town? Since when is that a good idea?”

“Since I asked you a few days ago and you said go ahead,” Kevin said. “We’ve done it before and been fine. Bobby says Michael is busy with crossroads right now. We’ll steer clear of them.”

“I don’t know, Kev,” Dean said.

“I do,” Kevin said firmly. “Oh! I forgot to tell you. I heard Sam and Castiel talking when I passed Sam’s room. Maybe you should go check on them. It sounded heated.”

Dean didn’t waste time asking anything else. He rushed down the hall to Sam’s room and pushed open the door without knocking.

Sam was standing at the sink, shaving carefully around the stitches on his neck, and Castiel was sitting in the recliner. They both looked perfectly at ease.

“You guys okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, fine,” Sam said. “Why?””

“Kevin said…” Dean shook his head, realizing he’d just been played. He considered going back and telling Kevin he was on lockdown, but he figured if he’d done it before, he’d be fine. He didn’t want this bunker for Kevin the way it was for Sam. He relaxed and watched Sam as he made strokes over his jaw with the razor. “Looking good, Sammy. You were getting a pretty impressive beard there.”

Sam smiled. “You can talk. I see you stood closer to the razor this morning, too.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his jaw. “It was time.”

Sam nodded and turned back to the mirror. Dean smiled at his back. The fact he was putting the effort into shaving after what he’d done in the night was a sign that he was doing better.

“Thanks for the pancakes,” he said. “They were good.”

Sam nodded. “It felt good to do it.”

Dean considered suggesting Charlie’s idea that they lure Michael out with Lucifer, asking if he thought he could handle getting out of the bunker, but he hesitated. The way he looked today, Sam would probably say yes, even though he couldn’t be ready yet. Dean didn’t want him pushing himself and slipping backwards instead of continuing to move forwards.  

Sam rinsed his face and patted it dry with a towel then went and sat on the edge of the bed. He was silent a moment, appraising Dean, and then he said, “There’s something I need to do.”

“Sure,” Dean said automatically. “Anything you need.”

Sam nodded, looking serious. “I need to see Lucifer.”

Dean’s heart sank. He’d said anything Sam needed, but he’d meant anything but that.

xXx

Michael approached the angel slowly, his wings spread wide in a show of power. He had nothing to fear from the mere seraph, but he wanted to make an impression.

The angel looked up from his place sitting on a bench, and he leapt to his feet. “Michael!” he said, awed. “You came!”

“I came,” Michael said.

“We knew you would save us,” the angel said, then frowned as he saw Naomi approaching behind Michael. “Naomi? I thought you were in… Oh, this is your Naomi.”

“You still have your own?” Michael asked, unsurprised that his loyal second-in-command would have survived where a host had failed.

“We do,” he said. “She is leading us now.”

“I understand there aren’t very many of you left to lead,” Naomi said.

“Hardly any,” he said.

“What is your name?” Michael asked.

“Indra.”

“And your job is to guard this entrance to Heaven, Indra?”

Indra nodded. “We kept it open for when you came.”

Michael frowned. “You were expecting me?” He didn’t understand why when this Heaven was closed to him. He did not belong and could not enter.

Indra looked eager. “We knew you would find a way to save Heaven. Nothing can keep you out.”

That was untrue. Michael may be able to find a way in, with God’s help it was guaranteed, but Michael sincerely hoped He would stay absent. He knew he could travel this angel’s mind to search for what he needed to know, but he thought it would be easier to ask rather than sift through millennia of memories.

“I need your assistance, Indra.”

“Anything, Michael,” he said solemnly.

“Where is there a Hell Gate in this world?”

“They are spread across the globe,” he answered. “The largest is in Wyoming.”

“The colt cemetery,” Michael said, nodding. That had been one in his world, too, and he knew how to open it. “Thank you. Now, where is the colt in this world?”

Indra frowned. “The gun that can kill demons?”

“And almost everything else,” Naomi said.

“It was destroyed,” Indra said. “I understand that Dagon did it.”

Michael sighed. He had killed Dagon in the second demon battle, but she had proved difficult. It did not surprise him that she was the one that would complicate his plans now. He didn’t know another way to open a Hell Gate. Demons had come shortly before God had left, and the only one that had heard any of the real truth of them had been the scribe when he’d taken down the Word.

“Do you know another way to open a Hell Gate?” he asked.

Indra frowned. “Why would you want to do that? How will that help Heaven?”

“It will help because I _want_ to do it,” Michael said. “What I want will help us all.”

“I don’t know a way,” Indra said. “Castiel might, or the Winchesters, as they were the last in possession of the demon tablet. The prophet was translating it for them as they started the demon trials. The prophet is brain dead now, though, thanks to Castiel.”

“That’s okay,” Michael said with a smile. “I have my own.”

He knew Kevin Tran had seen the demon tablet as he’d seen it in his mind and, though he hadn’t seen a way to open a Hell Gate in there, he had been looking only for a rift. The prophet had studied the tablet for demon trials. Had he found a way to open Hell Gates, too? Michael should have paid more attention. He did not waste time on blame though; he began to plan.

He would bring Kevin Tran back to him at last and find the spell from him. If he didn’t already have it, he would compel him to find it on the tablet that Winchesters held. He would open the Hell Gate, and the demons would be destroyed before he moved on to his plans for humanity.

“You have been very helpful, Indra,” he said.

“Will you help us now?” Indra asked hopefully.

“Of course,” Michael lied. “I need time to find a way to save Heaven, but I will come back. You must not move from this place until I do. Tell your Naomi I am coming. Have them prepare for me.”

Indra nodded eagerly. “I will. We will. Thank you, Michael.”

It was small amusement to imagine the angels here, scrabbling around and waiting for him to come back, but even small amusements were worth having. Michael was feeling good. He thought he might even work on a way to get into this Heaven when he was done with the demons. It would be good to have a suitable place to rule from. 

He turned to Naomi. “I want Kevin Tran. He will be in Lebanon, Kansas. Find him for me. Take as many as you need. Take a legion. Bring him to me.”

“What about the nephilim?” she asked.

“Tell me when you’re in place and then close your mind from angel radio. It will be loud. When you have him, meet me in Wyoming.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Do not fail me, Naomi.”

“I won’t,” she said seriously.

He smiled indulgently. “I know.”

She nodded one and took flight. 

Michael followed her away from the playground and set himself down in Wyoming, knowing Naomi would find him.

He stood listening carefully for her call, and when it came, he focused his mind and began to shout on angel radio, a blur of noise that would distract them all, including the nephilim.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I got a chapter ahead of FFnet on here - Thanks Sbritton for letting me know - I have posted the correct C28 now.

Dean stared as Sam, seeing his resolve, and shook his head. “You don’t want to do this, Sammy.”

“I do. I need to.”

Maybe he did, he would have to face him at some point, but not yet. Sure, he was up and talking now, shaving and cooking breakfasts for them, but he was nowhere near ready to face Lucifer. The devil was cruel. He would know exactly what to say to hurt Sam most of all. He could push his buttons and send Sam spiraling back into his worst state again.

“It’s a mistake,” he said. “It’s dangerous. You’re doing good, I know that, but you’re still getting on your feet again.” It was so much more than that, but Sam didn’t need to hear it. He knew even better than Dean what he was still going through.

“That’s why I need to do it,” Sam said. “He’s still with me, Dean. I dream about what he did. I hear a noise outside the door and it’s him. My skin is so raw I can’t bear to be touched. Someone comes close, and I feel like I’m being choked. That’s all because of him. I need to see that he’s really trapped, powerless, to move on from it. It might break his hold on me.”

“Might,” Dean said. “It could also make it worse for you.”

“I’m willing to take the risk.”

“And if I’m not?”

Sam just stared at him with sad eyes. “I know what I’ve put you through, and I’m sorry for it, but I need to do this, Dean. I need to take control if I’m ever going to be right again, and this is the only way I can think to do it.”

Dean lowered his head so Sam wouldn’t be able to read his face. His greatest fear was that Sam wouldn’t ever be right again, that this shaky, scared version was as good as it was going to get for him. It wasn’t a baseless fear. His damage was a part of his soul that even Castiel couldn’t shift. His soul had to be so damaged after what had happened to him, and it would never heal. Sure he seemed better today, but it was still only a little better than he had been. If this was as good as it got… Dean would have to be grateful for what they had when it could have been nothing, but he would never stop hoping Sam would really be himself again. The idea that Sam would stay in this kind of pain for the rest of his life was abhorrent. There was only so much either of them could bear. Dean was already at his limit after everything that had happened.

He looked at Castiel, imploring him with his eyes for support, but Castiel didn’t give it. He just said, “I think Sam is aware of how dangerous this is, but we have to let him make the decision,” and gave Sam a small nod.

Dean could have refused if Castiel had used any other word but _decision_. He had stopped Sam making decisions before, and it had ended in disaster. He’d thought he knew best, he hadn’t been able to let him go, so he’d stuffed Gadreel down his throat, and that had almost destroyed their relationship forever. It had killed Kevin! He’d told himself he would never do that again, that he’d let Sam make his own choices, even if he disagreed with them, if it hurt him, because that was his right.

“I really think I’m strong enough, Dean,” Sam said quietly.

Dean nodded. “Okay. If this is what you want, I’ll support it. It’s up to you to decide.”

Sam looked shocked, but he quickly smiled. “Thank you, Dean. I’m ready.”

“Not quite,” Dean said. “You might want to get some shoes on. I’m pretty sure you don’t want to face Lucifer with bare feet.”

Sam laughed softly and grabbed a balled-up pair of socks from his drawer and his boots from under the bed. He sat down on the bed to pull them on, and Dean turned to Castiel. “Get Rowena in there. I want the restraints on him doubled. Gag him. I don’t want him moving an inch.”

Castiel nodded and hurried from the room, leaving the door open.

Sam tied his boots and got to his feet. He walked to the door and paused on the threshold. Dean bit his tongue to stop himself saying anything when he noticed Sam starting to shake. Sam seemed to try to master himself, though he didn’t manage to stop the shaking, and he stepped out into the hall. He turned left and walked close to the wall, as if wanted to give himself plenty of space from Dean who was walking with him.

He slowed when they reached the door that would lead them into the dungeon and gripped the frame and Dean couldn’t keep himself from asking, “Are you sure you want do to this?”

Sam took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes.”

“Let me make sure they’re ready,” Dean said, opening the door and slipping inside. He walked around the shelves to the open entrance to the dungeon. Lucifer was bound to his chair still, and Rowena had upped her hold on him with purple bands of light around his chest and hands. He also had purple light encircling his still battered and bruised face over his mouth. Dean could still see his eyes though, and they were murderous. Dean wished Sam hadn’t wanted this. Dean was filled with hatred seeing Lucifer like this, but he was also a little nervous, even though he knew he was powerless.

If he felt like this, how was Sam supposed to deal with it? 

Rowena and Castiel stood on either side of him, and although Rowena looked confident, Castiel seemed to be as anxious about the whole plan as Dean was now.

“You got him?” he asked Rowena, and she nodded.

Dean walked back out to the hall, thinking at first that Sam had gone, but then he spotted him pressed against the wall a little further along from the door, breathing hard. When he saw Dean, he pushed away and walked towards him.

“He’s ready,” Dean said.

Sam nodded and then with a look of supreme effort, he slowed his breaths and fisted his shaking hands. At first he looked even more scared than before, then his hands stilled and he flexed them. Dean knew how much effort it must be costing him to make himself look calm when he was feeling anything but, and he was proud of his brother’s strength.

Sam walked ahead of Dean into the dungeon, his steps sure and steady, and then, after pausing a moment, he walked around the shelves into the dungeon.

Dean followed him in quickly and watched his face as he looked at Lucifer. His expression was unreadable, but he couldn’t conceal what was in his eyes. They were roiling with fear and anger. Dean was pleased to see the anger; he thought it would help Sam deal with what he was doing there.

“It’s good to see you, Sam,” Rowena said with obvious sincerity.

Sam cast her a quick smile. “You too. Thank you for what you did.”

She nodded seriously. “It was the right thing to do.”

Lucifer was avidly following their conversation, his eyes moving between them and his eyes curious, possibly trying to work out what they were talking about. His eyes lit up maliciously every time he looked at Sam, and when Sam looked at him, he said something indecipherable through his gag.

Sam’s eyes fixed on him and he gave him a look of such loathing, Dean almost stepped back. He’d seen Sam facing Lucifer before, and he’d always had a look of mingled hatred and fear, but it had never been this intense. It was like he was trying to immolate him with his gaze. 

“Sammy,” Dean said quietly, unable to stop himself from reaching for him only to drop his hand again. 

Sam didn’t seemed to hear him. He stared at Lucifer and said, “You’re pathetic.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes and tried to speak again.

“You’re nothing,” Sam went on.

Lucifer’s eyes darkened and he spoke around his gag again, this time Dean was able to make out Sam’s name.

“Take off the gag, Rowena,” Sam said.

“Are you…” she started, looking uncertain.

“I’m sure,” Sam said.

Rowena glanced at Dean and he nodded. Sam had to be in control here. If he wanted the gag off, it was what needed to happen. If Dean interfered, it would make Sam look weak. He was doing an incredible job facing Lucifer while looking as calm as he did while feeling the way he was, and Dean didn’t want to destroy that.

Rowena made a sweeping motion with her hand, and the light around Lucifer’s mouth disappeared.

Lucifer opened and closed his mouth, stretching his jaw. “Wow, that’s better. Thanks, Sam. I don’t know if you’ve experienced it yourself, but magic has a bitter aftertaste. You can almost smell it.” He looked sideway at Rowena. “It smells like burning flesh. Remember that smell, red?”

Rowena motioned with her hand and the bindings around Lucifer’s chest tightened, making a sick crunching sound as they constricted Lucifer’s broken body. He grunted with pain and then shook his head and grinned.

“You’re looking better, Sam,” he said. “Though I suppose anyone would look better when they’re not coated in their own blood and bleeding from some pretty impressive knife wounds. And let’s not forget your little cage. That was nice and constricting, wasn’t it?”

Sam didn’t answer, and Lucifer looked him up and down, his eyes resting on the stitches in Sam’s neck.

“What’s with the needlework?” he asked. “Shaving nick?” He leaned back and laughed. “Or was it something a little more macabre? Judging from the position and size, I’d say that would have gone straight into your carotid.” He affected shock. “What did you _do,_ Sam?”

“Screw you,” Sam said.

“Pithy comeback. I remember you having a much smarter mouth in the Cage. At first at least. You soon quieted down once I hit my stride. And then after Adam bit it, you stopped with the backtalk and became a far more willing subject.”

He rolled his neck and winced as it crunched. Sam smiled, satisfied, and Dean laughed softly.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes and said, “Do you miss me, Sam? I don’t imagine you get lonely, as I’m pretty sure Dean has you on suicide watch, but you’ve got to miss our chats. I would pour my heart out to you, tell you my wants and needs, and you would listen. I guess it was easier for you to listen since you couldn’t actually say a word, but those moments still meant a lot to me. _Do_ you miss me, or are my cameos in your dreams enough?”

“I don’t dream of you,” Sam said, and though Dean knew he was lying, Sam’s tone was convincing.

“Really?” Lucifer asked. “Not even a little one now and then? Maybe a flash of me with the blade, or your heart in your own hands waiting to be crushed?”

Sam’s face flickered with pain for a moment and Dean stepped closer to him.

“Aw, look at that,” Lucifer said. “Big brother is going all protective over little Sammy. Shame you weren’t there when you were really needed, Dean. Sam could have done with you when he was on the rack, screaming silently for it to stop, or in the night, when he was in his cage crying for you to save him. That was when you could have really earned your big brother stripes.”

Dean recoiled, wondering if it was true. Had Sam really cried for him, knowing he couldn’t come? Had he maybe prayed for Dean to come without answer?

He wanted to tell Rowena to gag him again, but it was down to Sam to decide when that happened. He was in control here.

Lucifer laughed. “Okay, if you’re not dreaming of me, are you dreaming of the rest of the people you love?”

Dean swallowed hard at the intimation that Sam felt anything but loathing for this animal.

“Do you watch them die every night?” Lucifer asked. “Do you maybe see Castiel killed as he tries to protect Jack? Do you see Dean cradling your dead mother in his arms as his heart is slowly crushed?” He chuckled. “Didn’t you work that out yet? That was me, Sam! I crawled deep into your head and made you see what I wanted you to see. I didn’t think it would break you, but there was a certain beauty to that success though.”

“I already knew,” Sam said. “I worked that out with an old friend. It doesn’t matter what you did to me then. I’m back now.”

“You are,” Lucifer said. “And look at you. You may think you’re doing so well, standing there and hiding the fact your actual soul is trembling at the sight of me, but I’m not fooled. I scare you as much now as I did when you were on the rack. While we’re on the subject, how is your soul doing? Has Castiel checked it out yet? How mangled is it? How much of the man you were is left?”

“All of me,” Sam said.

Lucifer shook his head slowly. “Maybe you can lie to your family and the rest of the apes in this place, but you can’t lie to me. I know just how broken you are, Sam. I’m the only one that _really_ knows you now. You belong to me…”

Sam stepped forward and punched Lucifer across the jaw. Dean could tell the strength behind the blow was paltry, even if he’d been hitting a human it would have been nothing, but he was pleased by the intent.

“Does that feel better?” Lucifer asked. “Do you feel like you’ve taken back the power? Think you’ll be able to sleep better tonight?”

Sam glowered down at him. “Look at you, crushed by Jack, chained to a chair by Rowena. She’s stronger than you now, and your own son hates you enough to kill you. You’re nothing to Rowena, you’re nothing to me, and you’re nothing to Jack. You put me through hell, but I’m not scared of you anymore. You have no power over me.”

Lucifer laughed harshly. “Feel better for your little Labyrinth moment, Sarah?” He shook his head. “You’re wrong. You might think that by doing this, you’re setting yourself free, but that will last as long as this conversation does. I might not be able to put you on the rack anymore, or send you spiraling into the Empty, but it is my face you’ll see tonight in your dreams when you’re hurting, it’s my voice you’ll hear as you scream, it’s my blade you will feel scratching your heart. I broke you and you’re never going to get away from me. It doesn’t matter what Jack does to me, I will never die for you, because I am _in_ you.”

Dean saw the color drain from Sam’s face, and he wished he could get him out of there without making him look weak in front of Lucifer. He’d done a damn good job of looking strong, he was incredible, but Dean knew he was nearly at his limit. Thankfully, Sam seemed to realize it for himself. He quickly turned and walked from the room.

“See ya soon, Sam,” Lucifer called.

“Gag him, Rowena,” Dean said, then followed Sam out, trying not to rush and spoil what Sam had shown Lucifer.

Sam was in the hall, and at the first sight of him, Dean’s heart broke. He was sitting on the floor with his back pressed against the wall and his knees drawn up to his chest. He was shaking hard, and his head was in his hands. Dean slammed the door to the filing room closed and dropped down to his knees beside him. He almost touched Sam’s shoulder before remembering, and he satisfied himself with fisting his hands in his lap and saying Sam’s name.

Sam looked up and there were tears streaking down his face. “I can’t…”

“You did it!” Dean said forcefully. “You faced him and beat him. The next time you see him, if you even want to, is when Jack is killing him. You took the power back.”

“I didn’t,” Sam said miserably. “He was right. I’m going to see him tonight, and every other night because he is _in_ me. I can feel him there. I don’t need Cas to tell me how messed up my soul is because I feel it already. And that’s him. He’s still in here. He took hold of me when I was on that rack, and I am never going to be free of him.”

“You are! This is going to fade until you’re back on your feet again. Look at what you did in there. You didn’t show him how you were feeling.”

“It doesn’t matter what he saw,” Sam said, his eyes imploring with Dean to understand. “It’s enough that I felt it.” He wiped at his eyes with the cuff of his shirt. “He won.”


	29. Chapter 29

Kevin and Maggie were wandering the aisles of the grocery store, filling their cart with the items the others had requested. Some of the requests were stranger than others, and they were laughing at them.

Kevin liked Maggie’s laugh, it made him feel good. He liked her, too. He’d not been in a position to think about girls in a long time, not since he became a prophet really. He’d seen them and looked at them in an abstract way, appreciating the way they looked or spoke, or even just walked, but it had never been anything else. Girls and dating belonged to another life. His life was demons and angels and tablets.

But things were different now. He was still in trouble, Michael was a threat to the whole world and Satan was prisoner in the dungeon, but Maggie knew about all that, too. She wasn’t someone that he was risking by allowing himself to get close to. She was a part of it already. They were both in trouble, so why not enjoy themselves while they could?

Kevin liked getting out of the bunker. Things were crazy there. Ketch and Rowena were the most expressive couple he’d ever seen, or heard, and he was seriously thinking about demanding a new room further away from them. Bobby and Charlie seemed glued to the laptop, searching for Michael. Castiel was never there anymore, and Kevin was pretty sure he was keeping Sam on suicide watch. Dean and Mary were hardly ever there, keeping themselves ensconced with Sam, too. And Kevin hadn’t even seen Sam since he’d watched him stab himself in the throat. He didn’t want to crowd him, but a couple minutes to really see he was okay would have helped him shake off the nightmares.  

“So, how many Three Musketeers bars are we getting Jack this time?” Maggie asked.

Kevin grinned. “Think we should go with ten this time and test his limits?”

“I don’t think nephilims have limits for anything much, including nougat,” she replied.

Kevin laughed. “You’re probably right. We’ll get him ten and be satisfied with the goofy smile.”

“It is a little goofy,” she agreed. “If I hadn’t seen him in action, I wouldn’t have believed someone so darn cute could have so much raw power.”

Kevin raised an eyebrow. “You think he’s cute?”

She ducked her head. “Not like that. I mean cute like a puppy. When he’s not plotting to kill Lucifer and Michael, which is admittedly scary, he’s a practical ball of sunshine, especially since Sam got back.”

“They’re really close,” Kevin acknowledged.

“Is that weird to you? I know you were all really close before you… You know.”

“Before I died?” Kevin supplied, chuckling when an elderly woman passing them gave him a strange looked and rushed away, pushing her cart filled with cat food. “It’s not weird really. I always felt kinda different with Sam and Dean. I know they cared about me, and still do, but there was always this thing… Dean really tried to break through it, but I think we all knew I was on a limited lifespan. I figure they lost pretty much everyone they cared about before me, so they didn’t want to get too close.”

“That’s really sad,” Maggie said. “I get it, because we lot a lot in our world, too, and some people closed down because of it, but the rest of us just tried harder to stay together. Relationships were really strong really fast.”

Kevin shrugged. “I guess it is sad. I never really thought about it that way. Life with them was pretty high-octane most of the time. There were so many crises that you jumped from one thing to the next, occasionally taking time to pat yourself on the back for not dying. What sucks is that things were better just before I was killed; I was starting to settle and most times we were happy. Then Gadreel came along and killed me, and then I had to watch the pair of them tearing themselves apart with guilt. Sam was so angry, and Dean was messed up. I didn’t think things would ever be right between them again.”

“But they are,” Maggie said. “Sam’s… issues aside, they’re getting by together.”

“Yeah. They’re doing good.” He shook his head and checked the list in his hand. “Mary wants bananas.”

They carried on along the aisle and Maggie began examining the produce carefully. She had explained to Kevin that the fact she could do something so mundane as shop hadn’t lost the novelty to her yet. It had been a long time since she’d eaten something that didn’t come out of a can, and grocery stores were places you raided in the dead of night and hoped that there were no angels guarding them.

Suddenly, the lights above them flickered. Kevin was on high alert at once, even knowing it could be perfectly innocent, and when the floor started shaking it was like he’d almost been waiting for it.

He grabbed Maggie’s hand and squeezed it hard. “Go! Run! Get back to the bunker and tell them what’s happening.”

She looked horrified. “What about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

She hesitated a moment and he shoved her away; she staggered and then ran for the back door, clinging to the shaking shelves for support as the floor rocked. Kevin started to follow, and then he bowed over with his head in his hands as a high-pitched noise practically split his head in two. He’d heard the same sound when Gadreel had killed him, and he was terrified, knowing what was coming, but the sound cut off and he was still breathing. He looked up and saw two women standing in front of him. They were wearing tailored grey pant suits, and their eyes were hard. There was no question they were angels, and Kevin backed away from them.

“We need you, Prophet,” one said, grabbing his arm.

“You really don’t,” Kevin said, trying to pull away. “You’re just going to make my friends mad, and that doesn’t end well for angels. Have you met Jack yet?”

Her grip on his arm tightened and Kevin’s vision was filled with blue-white light and his ears with screams. He felt a swoop in his stomach as the store around him disappeared and he suddenly found himself in frigid cold air standing on a snow covered peak with an endless view all around him of mountains, lakes and tundra. He wrapped his arms around himself as he began to shiver and met the eyes of the archangel standing in front of him.

“Hello, Kevin,” Michael said. “I’ve been waiting for you. I thought it would be harder to get you. I expected us to have to storm that bunker, but you were out in public like a sacrificial lamb. Thank you. You saved me the loss of many angels.”

Kevin had nothing to say in return, even if he’d been able to think of something. His mind was reeling, and he knew just how much trouble he was in. He needed help.

He had no idea how prayer worked with angels, having never done it before, but he figured anything was worth a try. He concentrated his mind and imagined his voice reaching all the way to Kansas. _“Castiel, it’s Kevin. Michael has me. I don’t know where I am. Maybe Alaska. I don’t know. I’m in trouble though, and I need help. Tell Sam and Dean.”_

He realized as he finished that it was Sam and Dean he’d asked for. Sam was a wreck, and Dean was consumed by it, but they were the ones he trusted to come for him. They were the ones he really knew.

Michael frowned as Kevin shivered hard. “I didn’t think,” he said, grabbing Kevin’s arm.

Kevin felt another swoop in his stomach and then he was standing on an expanse of scrubby grass with the mountain he thought he’d just been standing on in the background and the two angels that had grabbed him from the store flanking Michael who was opposite him. The air was warmer now, though the cold seemed to have seeped into his bones. He couldn’t stop shivering.

Michael touched his forehead and Kevin felt a rush of grace. It was terrifying at first, as the last time he’d felt grace he’d also felt his organs burning and his eyes disappearing in their sockets in the seconds before he died. There was no pain this time, though, and it quickly ended.

“That will take care of the hypothermia,” Michael said. “I forgot how delicate humans are. I have never tried to keep one alive before. Do you feel better?”

“Just fine,” Kevin said bitterly. “What’s with the snatch and grab? I still don’t know the spell to get you home.”

“I don’t want to go home anymore,” Michael said. “Everything I need is here. I want to go somewhere else, in fact, and you’re going to help me get there.”

“Go to hell!” Kevin snapped.

Michael smiled cruelly. “That’s the plan. I know you have seen the demon tablet, so I want you to tell me how to open a Hell Gate.”

Kevin felt a thrill of horror at the idea of the damage Michael could do to the world if he managed to open Hell. The demons that were already on earth were enough of a threat. Bringing more out, all of Hell freed, would be a disaster.

“No,” he said. “I’m not helping you.”

Michael sighed. “How do you see this ending, Kevin? Do you really think you’re going to be rescued?”

“I know I am,” he said. “My friends will come for me.”

Michael nodded slowly. “They might try. I will kill them for it, but perhaps it’s better that I move things along. I don’t need you to tell me, after all, not when I can just look for myself.”

He grabbed the sides of Kevin’s head and gripped him hard enough that Kevin didn’t dare try to move in case Michael tightened his hands and crushed his skull.  

He felt things rushing through his mind, as if Michael was flipping through his memories like a rolodex, and then he came to the thing Kevin feared he would find: the spell he’d found when Crowley had been holding him prisoner that would open Hell.

Michael sighed happily and Kevin felt him perusing the spell carefully for a moment, cataloguing the ingredients, before he released Kevin and stepped back.

“Thank you,” he said. “That was very helpful.”

Kevin glared at him. He didn’t fear for his life then, as he was still needed for part of the spell, but he knew he was going to be killed shortly after unless someone came for him, and that gave him confidence. If he was dying, he wasn’t going to beg for his life first. He would die as a man, as Sam and Dean would have expected him to.

Michael addressed the angels with him. “I will find what we need. Take him to Wyoming, but don’t hurt him. There is something I still need from him.”

The angels nodded and grabbed Kevin’s arms again. In the moment before Kevin was swept away, he quickly called to Castiel again, not knowing if he would hear. _“Castiel, we’re going to Wyoming. Michael has the spell to open hell…”_

xXx

Jack heard their voices before he reached them in the hall outside the dungeon, and he knew, whatever had happened, it had happened to Sam. Dean was speaking in that soft voice he’d only ever heard him using with Sam, and only then since Jack had brought Sam back from the other world. Castiel was there, too, but he wasn’t speaking as much, just offering occasional reassurances. Someone was also crying.

He rounded the corner and saw that Sam was sitting on the floor with his knees draw up, crying quietly and Dean was kneeling beside him.

Jack came to a stop beside Castiel and asked, “What happened?” He glanced at the door behind which he could hear Lucifer’s muffled laughter. “Did he go in there?”

Castiel nodded.

“Why?”

“Because he needed to,” Dean said, looking up at him with a frown. “And he can hear you.”

“Sorry,” Jack said repentantly.

He couldn’t understand why Sam would put himself through that if not to see Lucifer die, and no one had told him it was time for that to happen. Even Jack hated seeing Lucifer, and he’d never been tortured by him. What could have made Sam do it?

“Is it time to kill him?” Jack asked.

“We’re still working that out,” Dean said, and Jack knew he was referring to Charlie’s plan to draw Michael out. Jack was torn. He wanted to kill them both, and he would, but he wanted Sam there to see Lucifer’s end, and he obviously wasn’t ready to be out of the bunker yet. Right now he looked like he wasn’t ready to be out of his own bedroom.

Suddenly, Jack felt a white-hot knife pierce his brain and his ears filled with a sound unlike he had ever heard before. The closest he could come was when he’d first heard angel radio, but it was so much worse now. It was piercing, and he could feel his eyes watering with the pain. He bowed over, his hands cupping his head and his breaths coming fast. He was vaguely aware of people around him and someone putting a hand on his shoulder to support him, but he couldn’t look to see who it was. His head was being split in two.

There was no concept of time while reacting to the noise, it could have been seconds, minutes or hours, but when it started to quieten and the pain left him, he was massively relieved. He straightened up and looked around. Sam was standing beside him, looking pale and shocked, with his hand on Jack’s shoulder. Even though it was shaking, Jack recognized the touch as the achievement for Sam that it was.

Dean was supporting Castiel with a hand on his back, and Castiel looked even worse than Jack felt. His eyes were wide and reddened, and his hands tremored as he ran them over his face.

“What was that?” Jack asked.

“Good question,” Rowena said, appearing in the doorway. “Lucifer just had a wee meltdown, and I’m guessing whatever happened to him happened to you, too.”

“It was angel radio,” Castiel said, straightening up and seeming to gain control. Dean’s hand dropped, but Sam’s stayed on Jack’s shoulder.

“I’ve never heard it like that before,” Jack said.

Castiel frowned. “I have once, but it was a very long time ago. The day God left, when He abandoned us all, Michael screamed and it sounded like that; the whole Host heard it. It was unimaginable.”

“Was it him that time?” Jack asked.

“It can only have been him or Lucifer. It would take an archangel to achieve that kind of impact.”

“I don’t think it was Lucifer,” Rowena said. “It seemed to hit him hard and fast, interrupting some pretty hearty laughter, too.”

“Then it was Michael,” Castiel said.

“Why?” Dean asked. “What could have hurt him like that?”

“Billie!” Jack gasped. “She could have him. He could be dead.”

Sam dropped his hand from Jack’s shoulder and fisted it.

“What do you think, Cas?” Dean asked. 

“I think it’s likely. I can think of no other reason he would made a sound like that.”

“We need to know,” Sam said quietly

“We can call her,” Dean suggested, “Like we did last time.”

“Yes,” Jack said quickly. “We have to know.” He needed to know if he was too late, if Billie had won the race.

Dean considered a moment, but before he could speak, there was a shout from the library. Jack ran towards it, hearing shock and fear in the voice, and came to Bobby standing beside the laptop, leaning close to hear the crackling voice that was coming from the small speakers.

“What’s going…?” Jack started, but Bobby held up his hands to silence him.

 _“I repeat, we have a serious situation at Casey’s Convenience. There are multiple 11-44s. Back-up required.”_ The professional voice faltered. _“I have no idea what happened here, Shirley. These people’s eyes were burnt out. Send everyone.”_

“Angels…” Jack breathed.

“What’s going on?” Dean demanded, running into the room with Castiel. Sam was nowhere in sight.

“Angels have attacked that store on Route 281,” Bobby said. “Don’t know how many, but the cop said multiple bodies.”

“That’s where Kevin and Maggie went,” Charlie added.

“We need to get there,” Castiel said.

“’I’ll go,” Jack said.

“You can’t go alone!” Dean started fiercely, but Jack spoke over him.

“I am the _only_ one that can go. If the angels are still there, I can kill them. I’m faster and I’m stronger. I can handle this. You’ll just slow me down.”

Dean considered for a moment and then nodded. “Go. Get Kevin and Maggie out if you can. Don’t do anything stupid thinking it’s brave. Just get them back.”

Jack nodded curtly and then took flight. He arrived a moment later in the store. There was a cop standing outside the door, his gun in his hand and his back stiff as he faced away from the door, perhaps too horrified to face what was inside, perhaps wary of a new attack. Jack quickly walked along the aisle, almost stumbling over a body of a woman that was sprawled in among fallen cans of tomato soup. Her eyes were gone and there was a smell of burned flesh around her.

Jack quickly walked around her, searching for a sign of Kevin or Maggie. There were four other bodies in the aisles, and an elderly woman and young clerk by the register. It was obvious they had all been killed by angels, and the scene was awful, but none of them were Kevin or Maggie. He was relieved by the fact they could still be alive, though he knew what kinds of pain angels were capable of and he was scared for them if they were still alive.

He was on the point of leaving, going back to the bunker to tell them what he had seen, when he heard a muffled sob from behind a closed door marked “Staff Only.”  He pushed it open and went into a dim room with shelves of boxes of supplies for the store.

“Hello.” he said gently. “Is someone here?”

“Jack?”

He looked around to see Maggie cowering in the corner. She stared at him in awe and then a loud sob bubbled from her and she ran at him, grabbing his arms and staring into his face. “It was angels!” she said desperately. “I heard that noise and the whole place was shaking. Kevin told me to run, and I did, then I heard them all dying. Is he out there? Is he dead?”

“No. I didn’t see him.”

“Then they must have taken him,” she said tearfully. “They have him!”

“He’ll be okay. We’ll get him back.” He sounded confident, even if he didn’t particularly feel it. He would save Kevin if he could, but he had to find him first. “We need to get out of here. There’s a cop outside, and he’s called for more help. Is there another door?”

“I don’t know.”

Jack took her hand and tugged her along with him as he rounded the shelves and looked for an exit. He found a door marked exit and quickly pushed it open and dragged her though. When they got outside, the fresh air dispelled the smell of burnt flesh from Jack’s nose, and he inhaled deeply.

“Okay, have you got your cell phone?” he asked,

She pulled a slim silver phone from her pocket and handed it to him. He quickly dialed Dean’s number, and it was answered after only one ring.

_“Maggie!”_

“It’s me,” Jack said. “I found Maggie, but Kevin is gone.”

 _“We know,”_ Dean said. _”Get back here. We need you.”_

“I can’t leave her here alone,” Jack said. “The cops are coming.”

_“I’ll send Ketch to get her. This is big, Jack. Come back.”_

“I’ll be right there,” Jack said, cutting off the call. “I’ve got to go to the bunker. Ketch is coming to get you.”

“Don’t leave me,” she whimpered, grabbing his arm.

“I have to,” Jack said, hating himself. “I need to help Kevin.”

He pulled himself free of her grip and crept around the side of the store to the front. The cop was still standing outside the door, his gun held and his eyes roving the street. Jack waited until he was looking away and then darted forward and pressed his fingers to the cop’s forehead. His eyes closed and he collapsed. Jack caught him and lowered to the floor before he could hit his head, not wanting any more deaths because he wasn’t careful enough, then ran back to Maggie.

“The cop is unconscious,” he said. “You have to go before the others get here. How did you and Kevin get here?”

“We borrowed a car But I didn’t even have my learner’s permit before the world ended. Kevin was teaching me.”

“Can you drive though?” Jack asked intensely, aware of every second passing.

“A little.”

“Then get out of here before the cops arrive. Ketch is coming. When you see him, stop and he can take over. I have to go, Maggie. I need to help Kevin.”

She braced herself and nodded. “Yeah. Of course. Go, save him.”

“I will,” Jack promised, though he was very aware that it might be an empty promise.

If Kevin was still alive, he would save him, no matter who had him, be it the angels or Michael, but if he was already dead… There was nothing any of them could do.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

 

Sam made it almost as far as the library before freezing. He could hear them all talking inside, and he knew he should go in, but he was scared. There were so many voices, so many people, and he wasn’t sure he could handle it.

He hated that this was his life now, that Lucifer had done this to him, and that made him feel a surge of anger that he clung to and used to strengthen himself to take the last steps into the library.  

Shaking hard, he went in and stopped just short of the threshold. There was so much noise, people talking loudly and arguing, and he wanted to cover his ears. He’d thought he was doing so well before he’d gone to see Lucifer. He’d fooled himself into thinking he could get through this after all.

He shook away the thoughts and concentrated on what Dean was saying to Mary, who seemed to know as little as Sam did about what was happening.

“Bobby had the police scanner going on the laptop, and he heard the report coming in of something at the store. It sounded like angel kills. Maggie and Kevin were there. Jack went to find them.”

Mary’s eyes widened. “You let him go alone!”

“We had no choice,” Bobby said gruffly. “He could get there faster than any of us, and he was the only one with a chance of taking out the angels if they were still there.”

Mary looked at Dean who seemed as worried about Jack as she was.

“I know, Mom,” he said. “But we didn’t have a choice. We needed to get there fast.” He ran a hand over his face and looked around the room as if waiting for Jack to appear again. His eyes fell on Sam and he looked shocked and almost scared. “Sam!”

Sam forced himself deeper into the room towards them, stopping himself from freezing when Mary rushed over to him. He wanted to run and hide again, but he had to be strong, a Winchester, because Kevin needed him to be. He was the one that was really in trouble, not Sam. He was with angels, or worse, and Sam was surrounded by people that would never hurt him.

He stopped a few feet away from Dean and said, “We have to go after Jack.”

“I want to,” Dean said.

“Then go!” Mary said. “He needs us.”

Castiel held up his hands and looked concentrated for a moment before saying. “Kevin is not with Jack. He’s with Michael.”

There was an explosion of noise that Sam cringed away from, his muscles locking down when Mary put her arm around him and held his waist. He tried to calm himself, to accept the contact as he had when helping Jack, but it was harder this time. He’d been in control then, he could have pulled away at any time, but he felt the grip Mary had on him and knew he would only upset her by removing himself.

“Shut up!” Dean shouted over the noise. “How do you know, Cas?”

“He prayed,” Castiel said. “He doesn’t know where he is. He said Alaska perhaps…”

“Which is only a few thousand miles away, through Canada, and none of us have passports,” Dean said, raking a hand over his face. “Damn.”

“He’s alive,” Bobby said.

“And with Michael,” Mary said fiercely.

Bobby nodded and didn’t speak.

Dean’s phone rang and he snatched it out of his pocket, glancing at the caller ID as he answered. “Maggie?” He listened for a moment and sighed with what looked like relief. “We know. Get back here. We need you.” He scowled as he listened to again. “I’ll send Ketch to get her. This is big, Jack. Come back.” He frowned and then tucked the phone back in his pocket. “Jack has Maggie. Ketch, go to the store and pick her up. Jack’s on his way back here but he’s worried about leaving her.”

“Not surprising,” Bobby said. “That place is going to be crawling with cops soon, if it’s not already, and Maggie hasn’t had contact with law enforcement in eight years. She’s not going to be convincing if she has to lie.”

“I’m on my way,” Ketch said, jogging from the room.

Dean started talking again, but Sam barely heard him. His thoughts were with Kevin, wondering what was happening to him. Kevin obviously had something Michael needed, and Sam knew from the Cage that their Michael had been almost as cruel as Lucifer himself. The other Michael had destroyed a world. What would he do if Kevin resisted? Would he be happy to take it directly from Kevin’s mind, or would he hurt him to get what he wanted?

Jack arrived and the voices in the room rose again. Sam flinched and Mary’s arm around him tightened.

“Maggie is driving back,” Jack said. I told her Ketch will meet her on the road. What do we know about Kevin?”

“He prayed to Castiel. Michael has him,” Dean said. “He might be in Alaska.”

“Should I go for him?” Jack asked.

Dean shook his head. “It’s a huge-ass state, and we’re not even sure he’s there. We need you here if we get anything else from him.”  

“But Michael is there!” Jack said. “Billie didn’t kill him. This could be our chance.”

“No,” Dean said firmly. “We need you close when we get actual information. We just have to wait. He prayed once. He will again.”

Sam wished he had Dean’s faith, but he didn’t. He was scared for his friend, and it was making it hard to hold on. He wanted to run from them all, the emotion in the room, but he had failed Kevin before, the day Gadreel had used Sam’s own hands to murder him, and he wouldn’t fail him again. If there was a way to save Kevin, he was going to be a part of it.

“We have to hope so,” Bobby said. “Because I’m willing to bet whatever Michael wants from him isn’t good for the world. This is bigger than just saving your friend. I think this could be about saving your whole world.”

“Kevin’s strong,” Dean said. “He’s been through a lot before. He won’t break.”

“Everyone breaks,” Sam said quietly, feeling the eyes of everyone on him. “And Michael might choose to just take it out of his head. That’s what Lucifer did to me.”

Castiel help up a hand for silence and then said. “He’s going to Wyoming.”

“Why the hell would Michael be in Wyoming?” Bobby asked.

Castiel looked from Sam to Dean and said, “He has a spell to open Hell.”

Sam felt sick and he allowed himself to lean against his mother for support for a moment. She squeezed him and murmured softly, “It’s okay, Sam.”

“We’ve got to go.” Dean said. “Now!”

“I’ll meet you there,” Jack said.

“Wait!” Mary said. “We need to go together.”

“We can’t,” Jack said, disappearing before anyone else could speak.

Dean swore. “Right. We’re going.” 

“I’m coming,” Sam said in as firm a voice as he could muster.

“Are you sure?” Castiel asked, as Mary fixed him with her concerned gaze.

Sam nodded. “I have to. It’s Kevin.”

“Okay,” Dean said, though Sam could tell it was said reluctantly. “Cas, Bobby, get Lucifer out and in the trunk. I’m not leaving him alone here, and Rowena needs to be close enough to maintain the magic. Grab what weapons you can and get to the cars.” Bobby and Castiel rushed from the room, and Mary released Sam and followed them out with Rowena.

Charlie got to her feet and ran her hands anxiously through her hair. “He’s starting the wars again. That’s what he did in our world. After Lucifer, he fought the demons. It’s how we got The Void.

Sam closed his eyes and tried to push down the panic. He reminded himself that they had Jack, that they were all strong, but an army of demons on earth…

It really was the end of the world again.

xXx

Although Kevin knew he was in real trouble, his thoughts weren’t focused on himself. He was thinking of Maggie, wondering if she’d made it out before the angels had filled the place with that destructive light. He hoped so. He didn’t want to be responsible for her death like he was Channing’s. She had been good and sweet still, despite the world she’d lived in. He hoped she was okay.

He was standing beside an old mausoleum with two dour-faced angels holding his arms as if they thought he had a chance of escaping when surrounded by all those angels. There was an army of them, and more kept arriving. They had left a circle of space free in front of them, and Kevin thought he knew what it was for, as he’d seen two angels pouring from two old urns at the center. He just didn’t know who they were planning to trap in it—Castiel, Jack, or both. 

Despite that, Kevin was still hoping they’d come for him. He could see no other way he was getting out of this alive. He knew what the spell Michael had taken from him needed, and he was sure Michael wasn’t going to be careful. It was about more than him, though. It was the fact that Michael planned to flood the world with demons, too. Kevin needed help to come fast.

There was a murmur among the angels and Michael appeared with a copper bowl in his hands. He handed it to an angel and then gestured for her to follow as he walked toward Kevin. Knowing what was coming, Kevin straightened his back and glared at him. He wasn’t going to beg or fight. He would die with pride intact.

“I have almost everything I need,” Michael said. “You have the last ingredient. Do you know what that is, Kevin?”

“Blood of God’s chosen,” Kevin said bitterly.

“Exactly. He chose you as prophet, which means your blood is what I need.”

He drew his blade and pulled Kevin’s arm towards him. He brought the tip to the crease of Kevin’s elbow and then froze as someone shouted, “Michael!”

Kevin’s eyes found Jack, and he felt a moment of relief that made him smile before he noted where Jack was standing.

“No!” Kevin shouted. “Go! Move!”

Jack frowned and then stiffened as Michael shot out an arm and sent a blast of blue-white light toward Jack. It didn’t hit him; instead, it touched down feet from him. Jack looked almost amused before the flames from the holy oil the angels had laid down ignited and surrounded him with flame.

“I was expecting you,” Michael told him, sounding amused. “So I took out a little insurance policy.”

Jack walked forward, toward the edge of the flame, and Kevin shouted. “Don’t, Jack! It will kill you!”

Jack kept moving forward, perhaps believing he would be immune to the destructive flame, but when his foot rose above it, the flames rose up to block him from Kevin’s view. Kevin shouted his name, scared of what he would see next, but the flames shrank back to their usual level and Jack was lying on the floor, propped up on his elbows but otherwise unharmed.

Michael laughed. “Even you cannot break a trap of holy fire, nephilim.”

Jack scrambled to his feet again and pointed a hand at the flame, his eyes lit by a golden glow, but the flames didn’t change. He changed his aim to Michael, and golden light pulsed from his palm to the edge of the flames where it stopped and died.

“Afraid not,” Michael said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s something I need to do.”

He turned and brought the blade to Kevin’s arm again and cut him down to his wrist. Blood dripped down Kevin’s arm and Michael took the bowl from the waiting angel and put it under the flow of blood. When there was enough to coat the bottom of the bowl, Michael handed it back to the angel and ran his hand over Kevin’s wound, sealing it closed.

“I don’t object to taking human life,” he said in explanation. “But you could be useful to me again.” He turned back to Jack. “Your life I will take as soon as I have the vantage point from which to act.”

Kevin had no idea what he was talking about, but he knew he would find out in time.

“There is enough oil there to keep you trapped for days,” Michael went on, addressing Jack. “And there is something for me to do before I find my way back to where I belong. You can watch, see what real power does in the right hands.”

He dipped his hand in the bowl and began to draw a sigil onto the doors of the mausoleum with Kevin’s blood.

“He’s opening Hell, Jack.” Kevin said, calling across the distance between them.

“Only technically,” Michael said distractedly, dipping his hand in the bowl again to finish the sigil. He wiped his hand on his pants leg and then glanced back over his shoulder at Jack. “Make yourself comfortable and enjoy the show.” He pressed his hand to the doors and chanted the Latin he’d plucked from Kevin’s mind. “Aperi ianuam! Patitur introitu!”

The ground shook like an earthquake, and Kevin fell back against the mausoleum wall. A mean-faced angel grabbed Kevin’s arm and hauled him up. 

Michael nodded his approval. “Stay. Hold him.”

The angel holding Kevin nodded.

Michael smiled and stood in front of the open doors with his arms spread wide. “Go!” he shouted.

Blurs of blue-white light shot across Kevin’s vision, and he saw the angels were disappearing into light and flying through the open doors. When there were none left but Michael and the angel holding Kevin, Michael took a deep breath and stepped through the open doors into the fiery light, his arms wide and shadows of great wings at his back. The doors flew closed behind him, and the earth stilled.

Jack ran at the flames again and was knocked back. “This can’t happen!” he shouted. “I was so close. I was supposed to end it.”

Kevin watched him throw himself at the flames again and again, his face blazing with fury. Kevin understood his anger, as Jack had been vocal about his desire to end Michael, but Kevin thought there was at least one thing on their side. The demons hadn’t been freed from Hell.

Michael was taking the fight to them. 


	31. Chapter 31

Dean could tell that Sam was struggling hard as they powered their way through Wyoming toward the cemetery. He was sitting pressed tightly against the door and his shaking hands were tucked between his knees. He was trying to look better than he was feeling, but there was nothing he could do to hide the judders that racked his body from time to time. Dean wished he hadn’t let him come. What was the point in letting him make his own decisions when they hurt him like this? It was too much for him. Not only was he out of the bunker and racing toward Michael and what was probably a legion of demons set loose on the world, Lucifer was in the trunk, bumping around when they made sharp corners. Sam had to be in hell. 

Castiel was in the backseat with Rowena, and he was holding out the phone that Dean had told him to keep on speaker so he could hear Charlie who was riding in Mary’s car with Bobby. Ketch was following a few miles back with Maggie who had insisted on coming. 

“Anything new, Charlie?” Dean asked.

“Nothing since the last time you asked,” she said testily. “Nothing since the earthquake hours ago. I’ll tell you if anything changes.”

“We’re almost there,” Dean said, trying to reassure himself.

“We know!” Bobby called in the background of the call. “I can read a map, too.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew that they were as worried as he was, and probably even more nervous about facing Michael as he was their original bogeyman, but he was still getting impatient with their way of talking down to him. They were all dealing with a lot—it wasn’t just them. 

Sam shuddered and Castiel spoke his name gently. Glancing at him, Dean saw his eyes were squeezed closed. It looked like he was working through pain. After a moment, he opened his eyes and said, “I’m fine.”

“Rowena, go over it again for me,” Dean said.

She sighed. “If in the extremely unlikely event Jack hasn’t dealt with him already, I am going to restrain Michael while Jack takes his shot.”

“Jack would have found us if he’d done it already,” Sam said quietly.

“Maybe not,” Castiel said. “Jack hasn’t mastered traveling with others yet, and he wouldn’t want to leave Kevin.”

“Yeah,” Dean said eagerly, trying to reassure Sam. “And Charlie has seen no reports of demons in the area. When it opened with us, they left their mark all over the news. We might find Jack there with a dead Michael and bunch of angels turned to dust.”

Sam nodded but looked unconvinced.

They drove in silence until the cemetery came into view and Dean pushed the engine even harder. The sun was setting and it cast a strange light over them.

“There’s fire!” Castiel said suddenly. “I see it.”

“Fire like hellfire?” Dean asked. “Or a s’mores campfire?”

“Holy fire,” Castiel said.

“Jack didn’t take holy oil,” Sam said quietly, but no one answered.

Dean skidded them to a stop outside the cemetery wall and they all flew out as Mary slammed to a halt behind them. Dean ran across the field, through the graves toward the fire. He could see a figure in the middle of it and, though he told himself it could be any angel, it looked a hell of a lot like Jack in the center of the flaming circle.

Castiel ran past him, and Dean pushed himself faster. When he was close enough to see properly, he saw Jack trapped but alive in the fiery circle, and Kevin held in place by an angel close to the mausoleum.

 “I’m sorry,” Jack said desperately. “I didn’t realize and he trapped me. I can’t get out.”

“Don’t try!” Castiel said sharply, running towards him. “It will kill you,”

“It won’t,” Jack said. “I have tried. It throws me back. I’ve tried everything. They went in, Castiel. All the angels and Michael.”

“All but one,” the angel holding Kevin said, shaking him slightly

Castiel drew his blade and walked toward the angel. “Let him go, Thaddeus.”

The angel narrowed his eyes at him. “I heard you were different in this world, Castiel, not remotely the warrior that taught me everything I know, but you’re aligned with _humans_!”

“I am aligned with family,” Castiel corrected.

Thaddeus snorted. “Mud monkeys, a nephilim, and a witch. How far you have fallen.”

Castiel stalked towards him, and Thaddeus spun Kevin in his grip so that he was facing him. With deliberate slowness, he pressed his hand to Kevin’s forehead.

Sam cried out in horror. “No!”

“One more step, and the prophet dies,” Thaddeus said. 

“He’s lying,” Kevin said, but he sounded scared. “Michael wants me alive.”

Thaddeus shrugged. “I am not good with orders. I was left out of the fight. That upsets me. I’m not sure I want to do as Michael says again. I can sacrifice one prophet. There’s always another one waiting in the wings. Unless one of you wants to take his place…” He lifted his hand from Kevin’s forehead and it began to glow.

Dean felt Sam shaking at his side, and he tried to reassure him, but before he could say more than, “It’s going to be…” Sam was running toward the angel and Kevin.

“Sam, no!” Mary shouted.

Thaddeus looked amused at Sam coming towards him, and when Sam reached him, he quickly pushed Kevin away and grabbed Sam by the throat, tightly enough to make Sam’s face turn red.

“Run, Kevin!” Sam rasped through his constricted throat.

Kevin stood frozen for a moment, and Dean yelled at him to move. It was bad enough that Sam had done this, but it would be even worse if Thaddeus took them both prisoner. Kevin staggered away, coming towards them, and Mary reached for him and pushed him behind her.

“You okay, Kev?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” he replied weakly. “Is Maggie?”

“She’s fine,” Mary soothed. “Ketch is on his way here with her now.”

Dean fixed his eyes on Sam, trying to communicate confidence to him, but Sam didn’t seem to be seeing him. He was shaking visibly again, and though Thaddeus had moved his grip from Sam’s throat to over his chest, he still seemed to be struggling for breath. Dean cursed himself for not stopping him, for even bringing him with them. Sam didn’t need this added pressure.

“Rowena,” he muttered. “Can you get him?”

“Yes,” she said gleefully, slowly raised her hands.

“I don’t think so,” Thaddeus said, quickly moving Sam so he was pinned in front of him with the angel’s hand on the center of his chest. “How fast do you think she is? Can she cast her little spell before I shove my hand through his chest and crush his heart?”

“Stop, Rowena!” Castiel said harshly, pushing her arm down. “He will do it.”

Dean felt sick and he heard his mother moan.

“I will,” Thaddeus agreed. “Have you told them what I did before the wars, Castiel? Do they know what my role was before your other, stronger version taught me even more beautiful ways of causing pain?”

“He was the guard of Heaven’s jail,” Castiel said. “He tortured the prisoners.”

Dean saw Sam flinch, surely more acutely aware of the threat than anyone else there, and Thaddeus laughed.

“You’re okay, Sammy,” Dean called to him and received a weak nod in return.

“What to do…” Thaddeus said thoughtfully. “We have time to kill, quite literally, and I’ve been waiting here for hours.”

The look on Sam’s face convinced Dean, finally, that Sam meant it when he said he wanted to live. He had exchanged his place with Kevin because that was Sam, it was what he did, but he hadn’t done it to die. He had not had a choice with Kevin on the line.

“Leave him alone!” Jack shouted, running at the edge of the flames and being thrown back as the fire blazed up, knocking him down. He quickly got up and tried again.

“Stop, Jack,” Sam said weakly.

Castiel gasped suddenly and whispered, “Meg.”

“Meg?” Dean asked, almost looking around to see if she was there, though it should have been impossible. It was the time for impossible things.

“Yes!” Castiel said, and there was triumph in his voice.

He started away from where he stood beside Dean, toward the flames, and Dean realized what he was planning at the same moment he launched himself at him, dropping the angel blade he was holding on the ground. Castiel had once used Meg to bridge the holy fire circle Lucifer had trapped him in. He was going to sacrifice himself to free Jack.

“Rowena!” Dean shouted as he collided with Castiel and battled to hold him in place.

“Manete!” she shouted.

A flash of purple light hit Castiel and he froze in Dean’s arms. “Take this off of me,” he growled.

“I don’t think so,” Rowena said. “There’s no need for suicide.”

“Maggie!” Kevin shouted.

 Dean turned to see the girl and Ketch running towards them. Ketch had an angel blade in his hands, and he stopped a moment to take in the scene. “Are we attacking?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Dean said, picking up his blade again.

“Then what are we doing?”

“Waiting,” Mary said.

“For the legion of angels and Michael to finish up in Hell and come kill us all,” Rowena said brightly. “You’ve missed a lot.”

“Apparently so,” Ketch said. “Oh well. It won’t be the first time I have faced dramatically overpowering odds.”

Dean winced. He had no idea what they were going to do. Michael could be back any minute, and their only real weapon was trapped in holy fire. Sam was being held prisoner by an angel that could disappear with him at any moment, and they wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop him.

“That’s a good question,” Thaddeus said. “What are we doing? I think you humans would call this stalemate. It’s probably time for more to…”

He trailed off as there was a loud booming sound and the ground shook. Dean steadied himself on his feet and then watched with horror as the mausoleum doors opened and Michael stepped out.

He stopped for a moment and then laughed as the doors slammed behind him again. “Well… should be fun.” He looked from the group at the fire to Thaddeus and said, “I thought I told you to keep the prophet. I have no use for a Winchester.”

“I’m sorry,” Thaddeus said contritely, even though his jaw was tense.

“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” Michael said. “I can take my prophet back when I’m ready.” He drew in a deep breath through his nose, as if smelling the air, and grinned. “You have something else I want. Lucifer. Where is he?”

Sam shook his head jerkily, drawing Michael’s attention, and the archangel reached for him.

Dean shouted, “No!” as Thaddeus released Sam into Michael’s hold, and Michael raised a glowing hand to Sam’s head.

“Stop him, Rowena!” Mary screamed, and Dean thought he heard her mutter, “Finally,” as her hands snapped up and she shouted as a flash of purple light hit Michael and he froze him in place, his hand an inch from Sam’s forehead.

“Do not let go of him,” Dean warned Rowena.

“Because that was my first instinct,” she said, a hint of hysteria in her voice.

Michael scowled at them. “You think this is going to work? How long do you think the witch can hold me? How long until my angels are finished below and return to me here? Your nephilim is trapped and powerless. Your weapons are too few for my army. There is only one thing you can do. Bring me Lucifer and drop the spell. I will take my brother, and we can all wait a little longer to meet on the battlefield. I will even tell my angels to leave you alive.”

“Don’t do it!” Sam shouted, though his voice was filled with fear. He was shaking hard and Dean could see his terror.

Dean knew they had to make the deal though. If Michael left, they could get Jack out of the fire eventually and come back at him when they had regrouped. They had to let Lucifer go, regardless of what Sam wanted. This was about more than just revenge and seeing Lucifer ended. It was Sam’s life, all of their lives, the world even. They needed Jack free to fight.

“Bobby, Ketch, get Lucifer,” he said.

Sam shuddered, and Dean wasn’t sure if it was the prospect of losing Lucifer or the fact he was poised an inch from death at Michael’s hands that made him react. He wasn’t sure if Sam was thinking clearly.

“That’s better,” Michael said, as Ketch and Bobby rushed away. “Everyone is happy.”

Bobby and Ketch came back, dragging Lucifer between then. Bobby’s face was furious, and Dean was sure it was because they were letting Michael go, but what choice did they have? It was Michael going free or them all dying. It wouldn’t be the end. They would get him back.

They dropped Lucifer in front of the fire and stepped back. Lucifer fell to his knees, his ruined legs unable to support him, and his eyes darted around him, looking from the group around the fire to Michael and Sam. Though Dean was sure he had to be scared, he still looked like his smug self. 

“What happened to you, Lucifer?” Michael asked.

“Father/son spat,” he said easily. “Nothing to worry about. We’re working on it.”

“You won’t have a chance,” Michael said. “I’m not sure if you heard, cowering in the trunk like you were, but we’ve struck a deal. I get you, they get to live another day with this traumatized mess of a Winchester. Your work I presume.”

A flicker of a smile crossed Lucifer’s face. “Kind of you to notice. Yeah, me and Sam have a history. He’s my best ever pet.”

Sam winced and Michael laughed. “I see that. Now, Lucifer, walk towards me.”

“I think I’m happier here, thanks,” Lucifer said. “Besides, there’s something wrong with my legs. Probably just a cramp.”

Michael narrowed his eyes and stared at Lucifer for a moment. “I think your vessel is ruined, Lucifer. Did the nephilim do that?”

Dean thought he heard a flicker of fear in Michael’s voice. He hoped he was imagining it, as a scared Michael might end Sam anyway, to deliver a message to Jack of what would happen if he fought. He was making this deal with them now, giving them Sam and a chance to get away, but he had to know they were going to come for him again and Jack wouldn’t let himself be trapped a second time. 

“Just a misunderstanding,” Lucifer said.

Michael smiled. “Some misunderstanding.” He pointed at Dean. “You, Winchester, drag him over.”

Sam shook his head jerkily, but Dean knew they had no choice. The sooner it was done, the sooner he would get Sam back. He started forward and then Sam suddenly cried out in shock and Dean followed his gaze. Chuck was walking towards them, and he looked angry as he pointed a hand at Thaddeus, exploding him into dust. For the first time, Michael looked truly scared.

Chuck came to a stop beside them, and Dean’s hands fisted with anger. He was there now, and Dean was grateful, but he was also too damn late. They’d needed him sooner.

Sam’s eyes were fixed on him, his lips parted with shock and the shudders still working through his tall frame.

“It’s okay, Sam,” Chuck said gently. “You’re going to be fine.”

He held out a hand to Michael and the light on his palm vanished and his hands dropped to his sides as Rowena’s hold on him fell away.

Sam staggered away and then broke into an unsteady run. Dean grabbed him when he was close enough and pushed him behind him. He heard Mary murmuring reassurances to Sam, and Sam’s uneven breaths.

“Someone going to tell us who this is?” Bobby said.

“Chuck,” Sam said quietly.

“Also known as God,” Dean added.

“That’s _God_?” Bobby said incredulously.

“ _So_ not what I expected, Charlie said.

Ketch laughed softly. “I don’t know. He has a beard at least.”

Chuck glanced at them and they fell silent.

Sam stepped up beside Dean, close enough that Dean could feel him shaking. Dean moved closer and said, “You’re okay,” quietly.

“Michael,” Chuck said heavily. “What have you done?”

Michael still looked scared, but he sounded defiant as he said, “I did what you wanted me to do.”

“I wanted you to kill Lucifer, not destroy a world. You weren’t serving me. You were serving yourself, and you knew it all along.”

“And he changed his mind about that whole killing thing anyway,” Lucifer said, and he sounded more relaxed now that his Father was here, as if he was stupid enough to believe he was going to get another pass. Though, Dean thought after a moment’s consideration, he might after all. Chuck had proved just how twisted he was when he waited this long to come help them.

“Did I?” Chuck asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lucifer looked away.

Chuck turned to Jack, who was staring at him with awe and perhaps a little fear, and lowered his hand. The flames sank into the grass and disappeared. “Go ahead, Jack.” He said. “Do what you came to do.”

Jack stepped forward, his face filled with fury now and his arm extended to Michael who looked nervously between Jack and Chuck. Jack walked closer, and Michael’s blade dropped into his hand and he stepped forward to meet him in the middle. Michael lurched forward, his blade extended, and Jack forced it away with a wave of his arm, seeming completely unconcerned. 

Sam sucked in an unsteady breath, and Dean touched his arm as Castiel said, “He can do this.”

Michael’s wings spread at his back and Chuck spoke harshly, saying “No, Michael. You’re staying,” as Michael’s wings tremored and shrank away again.

Jack fisted his hand and Michael cried out in pain before Jack relaxed his hand, leaving him panting.

“Father, are you really going to let him do this?” Michael asked. “I did what you wanted.”

“No,” Chuck said. “You did what _you_ wanted. You took my creation and destroyed it. You murdered people. You turned the host into monsters.”

“I was trying to save the world! The humans were destroying it.”

“You destroyed it,” Jack grit out, fisting his hand again, forcing Michael to his knees as his bones were crushed.

Dean was transfixed by what he was seeing, the raw power of Jack unleased in his fury. His heart was racing with anticipation, though he was very aware of Sam’s shaking at his side.

“You’re okay, Sammy,” he said again.

Mary stepped to Sam’s other side and put her arm around him. Sam sagged against her and Dean thought he was only able to bear the touch as it helped him stay upright.

“Do it, Son,” Lucifer shouted. “Take him down.”

“Shut him up,” Dean snapped, and with a wave of the hand, Rowena gagged Lucifer again.

Jack moved to stand over Michael and he glared down at him with hatred. He raised both hands and Dean heard the sick crack of bones and black blood began to seep from Michael’s ears and nose. He collapsed back and writhed as Jack hurt him again and again. Dean thought he was enjoying it even. 

“You hurt me. You and your angels hurt my friends,” Jack said. “You ruined their world. You deserve to die.”

“You can’t kill me,” Michael groaned, looking past Jack at Chuck. “He won’t let you.”

“I will,” Chuck said. “End him, Jack.”

Golden light spread from Jack, colliding with Michael and making him scream with pain. Dean expected Jack to let up, but he didn’t. He pounded him with power until the sounds of Michael’s body being crushed were lost under the sounds of his pain.

“Goodbye, Michael,” Jack said.

Michael’s screams died as blue-white grace left his mouth and spread into the air. His body flopped to the ground, unmoving, and Jack’s golden light moved to encircle Michael’s grace as a high-pitched whine filed the air. It constricted the grace, making it smaller and smaller, until, with a blast that knocked the humans back a few paces, it exploded into nothing. 

Jack staggered back a few steps, and Castiel rushed forward to support him. Jack took a few deep breaths and then he turned back to Chuck. “Is it over?”

“Yes,” Chuck said. “He’s dead.”

There was a moment of silence and then Bobby whooped in a way Dean had never heard before. It was an expression of joy and relief, and as he hugged Charlie, Dean saw his eyes were wet. Maggie was in Kevin’s arms, and Dean finally understood what it meant to them to see Michael end. It was everything.

He and Sam had never really had a success like this, not one they could really celebrate. Something always came to destroy the moment. Azazel was killed but Dean was going to Hell. Lilith was dead but Lucifer was freed. Sam had gone to Hell to stop Lucifer. Eve was killed, but they’d barely had a moment of relief before realizing Crowley was alive and Castiel had corrupted himself to kill Raphael. Dick Roman’s death had trapped Dean in Purgatory and removing the Mark had released The Darkness. The closest they’d come was when Amara had been reunited with Chuck and Mary had been brought back. They’d gotten to the bunker, ready to celebrate at last, but Sam was missing, leaving only a bloodstain behind.

Bobby and Charlie could feel—their people would feel—the ecstasy of knowing the being that had done so much harm to them was ended once and for all.

Dean laughed softly and saw Sam smiling, too. Dean let himself feel it, Sam’s show of happiness, Jack’s elation of his success, and the relief of them all, before Sam’s eyes fell on Lucifer again and his face morphed back into the familiar look of fear.

Chuck looked from Lucifer to Sam and said, “Yeah, we need to talk.”


	32. Chapter 32

**_Chapter Thirty-Two_ **

 

Sam felt the shock of movement and then he looked around the bunker to see slightly stunned faces—excepting Jack, Dean and Castiel—at the sudden change in venue. Lucifer was on his knees in the exact place the rack had been in the other world, his chains gone and the restraints and gag around him now made of blue-white light.

Sam walked to a chair and sat, taking effort to keep his footsteps steady so as not to show just how overwhelmed he was. He knew he’d failed when Dean shot him a concerned look and Mary came to stand beside him, her hand on his shoulder. He felt her touch against his raw skin, but he didn’t shrug it off, feeling some reassurance in her presence despite the pain. Dean came and stood with him, his stance stiff as if he was preparing himself to protect Sam from any possible danger.

Chuck looked from face to face, his eyes coming to rest on Sam and Dean.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Though Sam could hear the sincerity in his voice, and he forced a smile in response, Dean crossed his arms over his chest and looked stony.

Chuck nodded, seeming to accept Dean’s anger for what it was. “I should have come sooner. I owed you both, and I forgot that for a while.”

“Why didn’t you come?” Sam asked.

“I was ashamed,” Chuck admitted. “I forgot the world for a while, I just enjoyed being with my sister, and when I heard Dean’s prayer for me to help you, Sam, it took me a while to come and check; I saw what had happened in my absence, again, and… I couldn’t face you. I was a coward.”

“You were,” Dean said brutally. “That wasn’t the first time I prayed to you. I asked for help when Lucifer killed Cas, too, and you didn’t come.”

Chuck nodded. “I know.”

“You know!” Dean said incredulously. “We needed you here. Lucifer was running riot, Asmodeus had Gabriel trapped for _years_ , Mom and Jack were trapped in that hell world! And what about _that_ world? It was yours, too, right? You left those people to suffer. And Sam! He was tortured again, he was killed over and over by your son, and you should have been here to stop it! Do you even know what he did to him, to his soul? Do you know the torture he had to endure?”

Chuck’s expression darkened, and Sam felt a thrill of fear separate to that which he’d already been feeling with the presence of Lucifer in the room. He was worried Dean was pushing Chuck too far.

“Dean…” he said quietly.

Chuck’s face cleared and he said, “I know what I did, Dean. I made mistakes, but I am here now, and I am going to help.”

“How?” Dean asked.

“Hell is greatly depleted from the war Michael waged there, and I have trapped the angels that remained of his army in there. They will be there forever now—except one that I feel you owe, Sam. Hell is closed and no gate will ever be opened again. There will never be a new demon coming to earth again.”

“What about the ones that are already here?” Mary asked.

Chuck cast her a small smile. “There are no more than you can handle.”

“What about Heaven?” Castiel asked. “There are hardly any angels left there. They are struggling to keep it intact. It could fail any moment and flood the veil with souls.”

Chuck nodded, looking thoughtful. “I think perhaps it’s time for a fresh start up there. New angels, protectors not warriors. I will rebuild the host, but…” He fixed his eyes on Castiel. “They will need guidance. Do you think you can help?”

Castiel looked from Jack to Dean, Sam and Mary, and shook his head. “I would rather stay here with my family.”

Chuck looked unsurprised, as if he had expected the answer. “Then I will stay here for a while. I let more than earth down when I left. I have a responsibility to Heaven, too. It’s time it was opened again.”

Castiel’s lips parted with shock and then he froze as Chuck pointed a hand at him. Sam froze, reminding himself that Chuck wouldn’t hurt Castiel to stop himself trying to jump between them.  

Chuck lowered his hand, and Castiel looked awed as he straightened his back and wings spread out like shadows behind him.

“Thank you,” Castiel breathed.

Chuck smiled then turned to Sam. “Sam, I am truly sorry.”

Sam shrugged. He had no words or will to speak. Chuck had let him down, but Sam hadn’t been surprised. Not once when Lucifer had him did he think to pray to Chuck for help. He had fixed Dean and his family in his mind and put his faith in them, the ones he believed in, not to save him, he’d never expected that, but to save the world and survive. It was why it was impossible to hang on once he believed they died. 

“The choice is yours, Sam,” Chuck went on. “What do you want to do with Lucifer?”

“Kill him!” Jack spat and Dean nodded.

“We can,” Chuck said. “But there is something worse for him than to die. Death would take him to the Empty. He would have peace there. What Lucifer fears above all else is a prison again.”

“The Cage,” Sam said quietly, realizing what Chuck was offering.

He did want Lucifer dead, finally in a place that would stop him from ever hurting him again, but he wanted Lucifer to suffer more. He deserved that as he had damned Sam to more than torture and death—he had cast such a shadow that the remainder of Sam’s life was going to be spent with this terror in him, the inability to feel touch without pain, the fact he would never feel safe. Lucifer dying or being locked away couldn’t change that, but at least with the second option Sam wouldn’t be the only one suffering.

“I can do it,” Chuck said, “Create one last connection to Hell and cast him there for eternity. I can guarantee he will never be freed again.”

“Do it,” Sam said without hesitation.

Dean shifted at his side. “Are you sure, Sammy?”

“Yes,” Sam said, no sign of a quaver in his voice, despite the way he felt. “Let him be the prisoner now.”

Lucifer’s eyes rolled wildly between Sam and Chuck, and he tried to shout around the gag.

Chuck pointed a hand at him and he was dragged to his feet, bent over and broken, the gag falling away. He was breathing hard, but he spoke through it, his voice desperate. “Not that! Anything but that.”

Sam locked his eyes on him and nodded.

“If you let him send me there, you’ll never be free, Sam!” Lucifer threatened. “I’ll get out, you know I will, and I will come back for you. I will make you pay if you do this!”

“No,” Sam said defiantly. “You won’t.”

Sam was already paying. Knowing Lucifer was dead wouldn’t change that, but he could take satisfaction in the fact Lucifer was in the place he feared most of all. And he believed Chuck when he said Lucifer would truly be trapped this time, an eternity alone.

Lucifer fixed imploring eyes on Chuck and said, “Don’t.”

“You did this to yourself, Lucifer,” Chuck said solemnly. “This is the price you pay.” He pointed behind Lucifer and a flash of light hit the floor. For a moment it glowed, and then the wooden floor sank away and revealed a portal Sam had seen and dreamed of in the years since he’d passed through it.

He walked towards it, ignoring Mary’s sharp cry and Dean’s hand on his arm, stopping in front of Lucifer. Lucifer stared into his eyes for a moment, pleading for the mercy he had never shown himself. Sam pressed his shaking hands against Lucifer’s chest and pushed, shoving him backward into the hole. There was a howl of pain and then the hole sealed, revealing unmarked polished floor.

Sam staggered back, overwhelmed by the moment, and Dean caught him, speaking reassurances into his ear. 

“There is one more angel that owes you a debt, Sam,” Chuck said. “I know what Naomi of that world did to you. What would you like me to do with her? She’s waiting.”

Dean sucked in a breath and Sam shuddered. “I don’t want her to have peace either.”

“No,” Chuck said thoughtfully. “She doesn’t deserve that. I think I have something better. The Naomi of this world is competent at reprogramming minds. I think I can trust her to remove everything good from her twin and leave her with the bad you suffered. Would you like that? We can keep her in Heaven’s jail forever, with only the recollections of Lucifer copied from you, felt as if they were her own?”

Sam nodded stiffly. “Yes. Let her feel it.”

Chuck reached for Sam who flinched back. “It will only take me a moment to copy them,” he said. “Just one touch. Can you bear it?”

Sam forced himself to stand still as he said, “Take it. Do it fast.”

Chuck smiled slightly as he touched Sam’s temple and Sam felt warmth for a moment before it and the touch were gone, making him feel like he could breathe again.

“I will take this to Naomi,” Chuck said. “It will be implanted in her.”

“Thank you,” Sam said quietly.

“And now you,” Chuck said, addressing Bobby and Charlie where they stood together. “My failings are for you as much as anyone. I abandoned many things when I left, including your world. What would you like me to do for you?”

Bobby cleared his throat. “I think I should go home. There are no angels there anymore, but there are still demons and other monsters. Someone needs to take care of them.”

“I could,” Chuck offered. “There need not be any monsters at all.”

“Think I’d be bored if there was nothing left to kill,” Bobby said, and Sam thought he was only half-joking.

Chuck considered them and smiled. “How would you like a second chance? I can take your world back to before the wars came. You could start again with the angels that terrorized you trapped here. I will create a new host to maintain your heaven, and I will not let them be corrupted again. It will be your world to live in again, not a nightmare.”

“Back to 2009?” Bobby asked. “But without the apocalypse? You can do that?”

Chuck looked amused. “I _am_ God.”

“Will we get the people we lost back?” Charlie asked hopefully. “All the people we lost in the wars?”

“Yes, you will have _everyone_ ,” Chuck said pointedly.

“I want it,” Charlie said quickly. “I’m going back if we’re exchanging apocalypse world for reset world.”

“Me too,” Bobby said. “There’s a lot I’d like a second chance at too. We need to give the choice to the rest of our people though.”

“Of course,” Chuck said.

There was a sudden rush of voices that made Sam cringe back as the bunker filled with Bobby’s people. It looked as though they had been dragged there from whatever they were doing at the time. One girl had a cup of coffee in her hand that she slopped down her shirt and there was a man with his shirt buttons undone and a smear of lipstick on his cheek.

Bobby held up his hands and called, “Simmer down.” When they quieted he said, “Michael is dead.”

The woman that had spilled her coffee stopped trying to mop it with her sleeve and gaped at him. “He’s dead?”

Bobby grinned. “Jack killed him.”

There was another explosion of noise as they cheered that made Sam want to cover his ears, and Bobby called for silence again.

“We’ve got an offer on the table.” He pointed to Chuck. “God here has offered us a do-over. We can go back to 2009, before the world ended, with new, non-murderous angels this time. We get everyone we lost back, and we get to try again. Who wants it?”

Sam did cover his ears this time as they all spoke at once, shouting to be heard over the noise, and Dean gripped his shoulder.

“I’m taking that as a yes from you all,” Bobby said over the din.

There were sounds of agreement and people nodded, and Sam slowly lowered his hands.

Chuck nodded. “If you’re ready…”

“More than ready,” Bobby said fervently.

Chuck lifted a hand and golden light spread in a rift from the floor up into the air. It spread open and people moved towards it automatically, eager to get back to their healed world.

“One at a time,” Bobby said as his people began to rush through. 

They disappeared one by one, Charlie going last after saluting them with a grin, until only Maggie and Bobby were left.

“Maggie?” Bobby asked.

“I didn’t have much even before the end,” she said. “I’m going to stay. Kevin are I are going on a road trip.”

“We are?” Kevin asked.

“Yes,” she said firmly. “We are.”

Kevin laughed. “Then I guess we’d better start in Montana. My mom would probably like to know I’m alive again, and you should meet her.”

Sam smiled as Maggie kissed his cheek. He’d missed this development in his friend’s life, trapped in his bedroom as he had been. He hadn’t even seen Kevin properly, and now he was leaving. It made him a little sad, though he reassured himself that he would see him again.

Maggie hugged Bobby and then grabbed Kevin’s hand and tugged him toward the hall, talking about packing. Kevin allowed her to lead him, a silly smile on his face.

“Yes, packing,” Rowena said. “Since I’m not needed to take care of the monster in the dungeon anymore, I think it’s time for Arthur and I to take a vacation.”

She started to follow Kevin and Maggie, Ketch on her heels, but Dean called after her, “Thank you, Rowena. We owe you one.”

She laughed. “You owe me far more than one, and I am going to collect.”

She disappeared down the hall, leaving Sam with Dean, Mary, Jack, Castiel, Bobby and Chuck.

“Just me left,” Bobby said gruffly, coming toward them. He held out a hand to Mary but she pushed it away and hugged him. He huffed a laugh and then turned to Sam and Dean. He shook Dean’s hand and then held his out to Sam, but when Sam hesitated, he dropped it again to his side and said, “Thank you, boys. None of this would have happened without you boys coming to our world.”

“Thank you for helping us, too,” Dean said. “You’re as good a man as our Bobby was, and he was pretty special.”

Bobby cleared his throat and walked to Jack. They shook hands, Bobby patting Jack’s shoulder, and he said, “I don’t have words to thank you, Jack. No matter what happens to our world next, those of us that know will never forget that you saved us.”

Jack smiled widely. “I’m happy you get your second chance.”

Bobby smiled and then walked to the rift. He looked back over his shoulder and said, “You idjits take care of each other,” before he stepped through.

The rift closed behind him and there was a collective sigh. Sam was thinking of the people in that world, the ones with their second chance. He hoped they did the right thing with it. He thought they would. No one was more aware of the mistakes that could be made in a world than them.

“What about you, Sam?” Chuck asked, breaking into his thoughts. “What do you want?”

Sam shrugged. What he really wanted was to stop, to just sit in his room in darkness and let himself be nothing for a while. Too much had happened that day for him to take in more. He needed space for a while.

“What are you offering?” Dean asked.

Sam looked up, forcing himself to meet Chuck’s eyes as he waited for the answer.

“I can give you Heaven,” Chuck offered. “You can have peace there until Dean comes. I will make sure you’re safe.”

Sam heard Mary suck in a shocked breath and Dean’s hand on his shoulder tightened to the point of real pain. He ducked his head, feeling the gaze of everyone in the room on him as he said, “I think I’d rather stay here.”

“Next choice,” Dean said tersely.

“A wall,” Chuck said. “I can hide away your experiences, block what Lucifer did to you from your mind.”

“No,” Sam said quickly. “It will break again. I can’t bear that.”

“And if I could promise it wouldn’t break?” Chuck asked.

“Can you promise that?” Mary asked skeptically,

“Not entirely,” Chuck admitted. “Sam would be in control of how much he pushes against it.”

Sam shook his head. “No. Not that again.” He didn’t want to go through what he had experienced the first time when Castiel had broken his wall. He didn’t think he could survive that again.”

Dean glowered. “You’ve got to have something else. You’re _God_!”

Chuck considered a moment. “There is something I can do. Your soul. I can make it new. You would have none of the damage you have now. You will not remember what happened to you. The memories would not be blocked, they would be gone.”

“And why is that door number three?” Dean asked angrily. “Seems like it’s the best option to me.”

“Because it will hurt,” Chuck said. “A lot. Even I cannot strip that damage and heal without pain.”

Sam nodded. He could deal with pain, he had before many times, and if he would be himself again, without the damage Lucifer had done to him, it would be better. He would be able to really live again without looking over his shoulder for the horrors to come back. With Lucifer trapped forever, Sam could have peace and life at the same time.

“Do it,” he said, getting to his feet and walking toward Chuck.  

Chuck stared into his eyes, seeming to test his resolve, and then looked over Sam’s shoulder. “Help him, Dean. Steady him.”

Sam felt a surge of trepidation as Dean settled his hands on Sam’s shoulders and braced him against his chest. The pain that surged through him at the places Dean touched was bad, but he had a feeling it was going to be nothing compared to what was coming.

“Breathe,” Chuck said, laying his hand over the center of Sam’s chest.

For a moment, Sam felt nothing, and then pain ripped through him and he screamed. The force of it was like nothing he’d ever felt in his life. The pain was like every torture Lucifer had devised all at once. It felt like acid was eating through his chest, his heart was being crushed, his skin was being peeled away from his flesh, his brain was being speared by hot knives. He felt everything at once. He was screaming so loud it hurt his ears, and he couldn’t understand how he was still conscious. Surely this kind of pain had to knock him out.

Just when he thought the pain was going to destroy his mind completely, it ebbed and ended. He was left panting and sagging in Dean’s grip.

“Easy,” Dean said. “I’ve got you.”

Sam got his feet under him and took a breath, feeling it fill his lungs and clear his head. “I’m okay Dean,” he said, and knew that it was true. The pain was gone and he felt different. His skin didn’t hurt, his chest didn’t ache, the sounds in the room didn’t pound on his eardrums and even Dean’s presence, close at his back, felt good instead of something to escape.  He felt truly peaceful.

Dean released him and Sam slowly turned. Jack, Mary and Castiel were still standing back, and Chuck had joined them. Only Dean was close now, though Sam found that he wanted his presence rather than needing to cringe away from it. When he raised his arms and pulled Dean into a hug, it felt right, not an expression of relief or reassurance for once. It was just being there.

“How do you feel?” Dean asked when they’d parted.

Sam drew in another deep breath and said, “Free. For the first time in I can’t remember how long, I feel free.”

Dean raked a hand over his face and sighed with relief.

“I think I’m done then,” Chuck said.

“Thank you,” Sam said fervently.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean said, his tone grudging.   

Chuck looked a little sad. “I will be close if you need me. I have two heavens to rebuild and two new hosts to nurture, but if you need me, call.”

“We will,” Sam said while Dean remained silent.

“I’m ready,” Chuck said, and Sam frowned, wondered who he was talking to, before someone appeared beside him, smiling widely.

“Amara!” Dean said, a smile spreading over his face.

“Hello, Dean,” she said.

She looked so much better than the last time Sam had seen her, twisted with fury and her mind set on destroying the world.

Chuck took her hand and said, “Are you ready?”

“To see the Heaven you created without me?” she asked. “I am.”

Chuck nodded to Sam and Dean and then in a cloud of light and darkness that twisted and entwined in the air, they disappeared.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, and then smiled as Mary strode towards him. She cupped his face in her hands and said, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I’m better than that,” Sam said. “I feel great.”

She hugged him tightly and then pulled back as Jack approached.

“I’m glad you’re back, Sam,” Jack said solemnly.

“Me too,” Sam said with a smile, and he was. He felt good, better than good. He felt strong.

“What are we going to do now?” Castiel asked. “It’s over. God is here.”

“It’s never really over,” Sam said seriously. “We’ve still got a whole world of monsters.”

“I hear there’s a werewolf in Delaware,” Mary said conversationally.  

All eyes turned on her. “Seriously,” Dean said incredulously.

She laughed. “Not seriously. There’s no hunts on my radar right now. Which is good because I plan to sleep for a week.”

“Me too,” Dean said. “After I eat.”

“Pizza?” Sam suggested.

“Yes!” Dean said enthusiastically. “Me and you can go get it, Sam. Mom and Cas can get the beers. Jack can sit down and relax because, kid, you earned it. You saved the damn world.”

Jack beamed. “I had the choice to be good.”

“Yeah, you did,” Sam said, clapping him on the shoulder. “And you were. Michael is dead thanks to you, and that whole world gets a second chance.”

“So do we,” Mary said thoughtfully. “I know it’s not going to be perfect, but with Lucifer gone and God back, things should be easier for us, right?”

“They should,” Sam agreed.

Michael was dead, Lucifer was trapped, and God was taking care of Heaven. They were together, and finally, Lucifer was gone from Sam’s mind. He knew he had been there once, he remembered how that had felt, but now his ghosts and demons had been put to rest.

He was at peace. 

“C’mon, Sammy,” Dean said, tugging on his arm. “I’m hungry.”

Sam laughed and started toward the garage before pausing and saying. “Uh… the Impala.”

“What about it?” Dean asked.

“We left it in Wyoming,” Castiel pointed out.

Dean cursed. “I swear to… well, him… that if Chuck didn’t bring my baby back with us, there’s going to be a whole new apocalypse, and it’ll be me running it!”

Sam shook his head. “He probably brought it back. He did when he rescued us from Amara that time.”

Dean glowered. “Yeah, but he slam-dunked her in the garage and dented the rims. If he’s done that again…”

“Apocalypse?” Sam suggested.

“Damn straight!” Dean marched ahead of him, and Sam followed smiling, just appreciating the moment of peace and happiness he’d never thought he would have again. Thanks to Chuck, to Jack, to his whole family, he had it, and he wasn’t ever going to forget to appreciate them when they came.

He was happy in a way he’d never been before, and it felt good.

It felt real good.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… Here we are — at the end at last. This story was an amazing experience of the words flowing and the combined energy of me and Ncsupnatfan working together to make something new. I am beyond grateful to her for all her help, and so grateful to you all for coming on this journey with us.   
> Until the next story…  
> Clowns or Midgets xxx


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